


Same Place, Different Time

by coolbyrne



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-30 18:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3947755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane consults Maura on a case, before Maura becomes Chief Medical Examiner. A re-boot of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a tumblr prompt, where Jane consults Maura on a case via Skype, and Maura doesn't work in Boston. I sort of turned that into a new first meeting/re-boot that I think would still work with what we've been given. As always, my thanks to happycamper5 for the push and the beta. No thanks given for not letting me call the story "Skypefall". Hmph.

.....

 

“Detective Rizzoli, so nice to see you.” The long lean form of the assistant medical examiner stood to his full height, his spindly limbs giving weight to the praying mantis moniker he had been given by the Homicide crew.

 

Jane covered her shudder and her eye roll. “Dr. Pike. What have we got?”

 

To his dismay, she crouched down to look at the body, and he was compelled to fold himself towards the ground once more. “We have a dead body.”

 

This time, she couldn’t hide her snort. She glanced around the small living room, swiftly collecting images in her mind for later retrieval. On the surface, it all seemed ordinary, apart from the half dozen people milling about in Tyvex onesies, going about the business that was required in the presence of a dead body. Photos and valuables all seemed in place, and anything hiding its secret life as a murder weapon sat innocently on an end table or bookshelf. She looked down to the body at her feet.

 

She pointed to the 5-inch opening on the victim’s forehead. “Cause of death?”

 

Pike grunted. “Seems fairly obvious, Detective.”

 

She nodded, but frowned. “Seemed fairly obvious the last two times, too.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

She stood and slipped her hands into her pockets. Shrugging, she said, “Mindy Paulsen, 5 weeks ago. Mikel Innis 12 days later. Now,” she checked her notes, “Paige Malova.” The small spiral pad went back into her pocket, as did her hands. “Seems like once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is…” her voice trailed off, the end of the phrase abandoning her.

 

Pike stood beside her. “Ian Fleming said ‘Three times is enemy action’.” He glanced at the body, then back to Jane. With a scoff, he asked, “You’re not suggesting this is a serial killer?” Before she could respond, he held up his hand. “With all due respect, Detective, perhaps you returned to work too soon. You’re seeing serial killers in shadows.” He didn’t seem to notice the tension in her jaw. “I have no doubt we’ll find the same thing in Ms. Malova that we found in the other 2 souls - a higher than recommended level of alcohol or barbiturates. A loss of senses, a fall, and a tragic death.” He wrinkled his nose at the word ‘tragic’; it made Jane even more rigid.

 

“Still, I’d like to talk to Dr. Merrill and get his opinion.”

 

Pike looked like he had been slapped. “I assure you,” he said, “Dr. Merrill concurs with my findings. Now, as much as your beauty enchants me, I have work to do.”

 

“Yeah, must take a lot of work to be that incompetent,” a voice to Jane’s left muttered at Pike’s exit.

 

Jane turned sharply. “Korsak. What are you doing here?” She heard the tone of her voice and took a deep breath. “I mean, not much for you to do. Looks like it might be exactly what Pike says - blunt force trauma to the head caused by a fall.”

 

His shrug was casual and easy. “Hard to turn down an opportunity to see a genius at work,” he deadpanned. “Besides, your new partner doesn’t start ‘til Monday and I…” He looked away. “Anyway, just seeing if you needed an extra hand.”

 

She laughed without humour. “Nope. Just two new ones.” She held hers up and wiggled her fingers before quickly hiding them from sight.

 

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Korsak rubbed his forehead. “I wasn’t thinking.”

 

She softened a little at his distress. “It’s fine, Korsak. Really. I’m just knee-jerking because of Pike. I wish Merrill hadn’t handed over M.E duties to that ass.”

 

He made a face. “You an’ me both. But what can you do? Merrill’s retiring at the end of the year, and the closer he gets to the end, the less he wants to do.”

 

“Do you think he’ll give it to Pike? The Chief position, I mean?”

 

“Thankfully, he can’t,” Korsak said, shaking his head. “I think the Governor has to pick or something.”

 

“I guess that’s some good news.”

 

“What are you thinking about these cases, Jane?”

 

“Nothing. I mean, you know, if Pike determines a fall as the cause of death, not much I can do about it, right?”

 

If her evasiveness offended him, he didn’t show it. “Okay. I guess we should track down the next of kin and do the visits.”

 

Jane pulled a frown. “I hate that.”

 

“I know, which is why I’m gonna do it. But you gotta do the report.”

 

In the past, the decision would have been immediate. She hated doing the dead knocks, but her hands twitched at the thought of filling out 10 pages of paper work. Korsak waited patiently, and she wasn’t sure if it offended her more than if he’d called her out on her hesitancy. “Deal,” she said at last.

 

“Great,” he replied, as if it was business as usual. “I’ll go pick up Irene. You know she’s the best one for these kinds of things. I'll bring you a coffee on the way back."

 

"Great." She waited until he was gone and, after a quick glance around, she clenched her fingers tightly and winced at the jolt of painful release.

 

.....

 

"Good thing we don't have those old manual typewriters, huh, Rizzoli? You'd be here all day cranking that lil' knob!"

 

She didn't bother to look up at the speaker. "Me and your wife would have so much more in common, Detective Crowe."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

She slowly raised her head and gave a nonchalant shrug. "I'm just saying, I imagine it takes your wife all day to crank that little knob." Her eyes flicked down to his crotch, and back again.

 

A loud laugh from across the room drew Crowe's ire. "Yeah, well, you won't be cranking anyone's knob for awhile with those hands, will ya, Rizzoli?"

 

"Tell your wife to give me a call. You obviously don’t know how lady parts work."

 

"Hey!" a shout came from the Lieutenant's door. "The people of Boston don't pay you clowns to fuck around all day. Rizzoli, you need me to get someone to fill out those reports for you?"

 

She bristled. "No, sir."

 

"Good. So get to it. How 'bout you, Crowe? Last I heard, you were waitin' for a search warrant on the Norrie case."

 

"Still waiting."

 

"What the fuck for? That was yesterday. Get on the ADA and get the fuckin' warrant already."

 

"Asshole," Jane muttered as Crowe slinked away. Realizing she said it out loud, she looked sharply at her boss. "Not you, sir."

 

A small smirk twitched the corner of his mouth. "I know. Just... try an' ignore it, okay?" He waited for her nod before returning to his office, slamming the door behind him.

 

She sat back, tossing the pencils she’d been using to type onto her desk. With a sigh, she closed her eyes and made a motion to press her fingertips against them, until she realized it would expose her hands. So instead, she tucked them under her arms.

 

 _A year,_ she thought. _It's been a fucking year. You've been back for 5 months. When are you going to get over it?_ Images of leering smiles and glinting scalpels flashed through her mind, and she squeezed her eyes tighter. Charles Hoyt. The Couple Killer. A case so far-reaching that the Governor thought it best to call in the Feds. She remembered how pissed off she was when she was told she'd be sharing the case, how she took it as a personal slight. Youngest to make Detective, and a woman to boot. They clearly thought she couldn't handle it, even though she was paired with a man who had over 20 years of experience. Instead of trusting them to do their jobs, the Governor brought it the suits, the profiler, and the medical examin-

 

She sat up suddenly. The medical examiner. _What was her name?_ Brought in because they said she was the best of the best. Could find a grain of sand in a haystack, they said. Six months on the case and Jane never met her. Most of her work was done from Washington, and all findings went through the suits first. Jane clicked on her e-mail folder and scrolled until she found it. Preliminary findings on Victims 1 and 2. The only e-mail she had received, before the Feds cut off the information pipeline.

 

Dr. Maura Isles.

 

She grabbed the pencils and began typing.

 

.....

 

"Yes, Agent Tressler, I'm well aware that time is of the essence. However, as I have yet found a way to manipulate time, the DNA results will take as long as they take. Yes, I agree things would get done faster if we had the technology available to the agents on CSI. Perhaps you can bring that up in the next department meeting." Dr. Maura Isles hung up without further comment and returned her attention to her laptop. There was something in the toxicology report of the Pennsylvania case that fluttered at the edges of her mind. She frowned, unable to bring it into focus. The e-mail notification bell made her blink. Knowing the answer would remain out of reach until she allowed her thoughts to clear, she clicked on the envelope icon.

 

A line formed between her brows as she read the message:

 

_Dr. Isles,_

_You don’t know me. I mean, we haven’t met personally, but I have worked with you in the past. Well, I worked with the Feds who worked with you, but we worked a case “together” a year ago. I don’t know if you’ll remember it. Charles Hoyt. We got him on 7 counts of murder. The Couple Killer, the press called him. Anyway, despite my initial feelings about getting the Feds involved, I was really impressed by your work, and the trace evidence you found on one of the victims helped us not only find him, but prevented him from killing anyone else. Which is why I’m emailing you today._

_I’ve got 3 dead people spread out over the last 5 weeks. The assistant M.E here says all natural causes, but I don’t know. My gut says there’s more going on, but my boss takes his cue from the M.E’s office, so officially, the cases are closed. I know this sounds crazy, but you’re good at things like this. Is there any chance you’d have a look? I could email you the files, the reports, whatever you need. You’re the first (and only) person I could think of._

_Thanks for any help you give._

_Sincerely,_

_Detective Jane Rizzoli_

_Boston Police Department_

_Homicide Division_

 

Maura let her eyes skim over the message a second time, committing the information to memory as she went. Of course she remembered Charles Hoyt. In a job where horrific cases seemed endless, this was one of the more memorable ones. Usually a prolific and methodical killer, in the end, a tiny mistake was his undoing. Upon examining the duct tape that Hoyt had used to bind one of his victims, Maura had found the smallest edge of a fingerprint in the residue; it was enough to match it against the prints the Emory School of Medicine had on file. It also launched the pursuit of their former disgraced student.

 

She glanced at the message again. _I wonder how long it took her to type it?_ Recovery from damage to the lumbrical muscles and median nerves could take months, not to mention extensive physical therapy. _Was the sever thin enough for the nerve to regenerate on its own or did they need to use a donor nerve to repair it? Did they take it from the sural nerve in her leg or the medial antebrachial cutaneous nerve in her arm? Numbness is a common side effect. I wonder how-_

 

Maura shook her head. “I wonder how I find the time to get anything done,” she chastised herself out loud before typing out a reply.

 

…..

 

_Detective Rizzoli,_

_May I preface this note by saying how flattered I am that you remember me, and that you would think of me first (and only) in light of your current situation._

_Unfortunately, due to the jurisdictional minefield I fear we’d be traversing, I’m afraid I must deny your request for assistance. However, should your medical examiner's office contact me, I'd be more than happy to work with you again._

_Regretfully yours,_

_Dr. Maura Isles_

…..

 

Jane pulled back from the monitor. “What the hell…?”

 

“What the hell what?” Korsak asked, entering the bullpen.

 

“What? Oh, nothing,” Jane replied, then shrugged. “Take a look at this. If you can decipher it into English, that would be great.”

 

“Have your coffee and let me see.” He handed her the steaming cup and slipped on his reading glasses. A quick perusal made him chuckle. “I remember her. Dr. Isles. No nonsense kinda gal. Bit standoffish, but can you blame her? The Feds are assholes. And to translate, she’d like to help, but jurisdiction red tape is enough to make anyone say, ‘Thanks but no thanks’.” He put the glasses back in his breast pocket. “What’s this about ‘current situation’? Didn’t know there was a case that needed an extra set of eyes outside the department.”

 

She held the hot cup between her hands and savoured the heat against her palms. Using the steam as an excuse to cover her delay, she blew on the liquid and finally said, “Just some old cold cases. I thought since she did such a good job with Hoyt, she might want to take a look.”

 

The answer seemed to satisfy him, because he nodded appreciatively. “Good thinkin’. But try not to solve all your cold cases before Monday. Gotta have something to give the new guy.”

 

As she watched him walk towards his desk, Jane felt a pang of guilt. Because of what had happened between them in Hoyt’s basement, she had been the one to ask for “the new guy.” She was never one for words, so how could she explain that their partnership changed that night? She wasn’t sure he’d understand anyway.

 

“What do you know about him?”

 

Korsak shrugged. “Young, up-and-coming kid from Robbery. Heard he’s a computer whiz, which immediately improves this squad of technological dinosaurs.”

 

“Hey!” Jane objected, pointing at her keyboard. “I’m sending a newfangled electronic letter right now!”

 

“I’m sure Bill Gates is knocking at your door.”

 

She made a face, but returned to the monitor. Opening up the reply box, she started typing.

 

…..

 

_Dr. Isles,_

_Thank you for your quick reply. I'm sorry to hear you can't help, but I absolutely understand.  I can only imagine that a woman in your position needs to be careful whose toes she steps on._

_Part of the reason I'm contacting you is because of a lack of interest on their part, so don't bother waiting for a letter from the M.E. I'm sure I'll be able to figure this out on my own before anyone else is murdered. I'm probably just crazy anyway. Sorry to waste your time._

_Thanks again for your reply._

_Jane Rizzoli_

.....

 

Maura pulled back, quietly amused by the detective's response.

 

_Detective,_

_Considering my qualifications, I'm not sure whether to commend you for trying to guilt me into accepting, or be appalled at the amateurish attempt. I seem to be leaning towards the former, because against my better judgment, I am agreeing to let you send me the files you think are relevant to your problem. That, and I suspect I am little match for your determination, and I'm concerned all this typing is detrimental to your recovery._

_Please be aware, this is strictly an unofficial discussion between two colleagues. Should I be asked, that is the answer I will be giving. I suggest you do the same._

_M.I._

 

.....

 

The comment about her hands took some of the wind out of her sails, and she drew in a stuttered breath. Of course she would know, Jane told herself. It was a part of the final report, filed both by the BPD and the FBI. Just another line in the chronology of Charles Hoyt's murderous spree. A line that meant nothing to anyone but her.

 

Her mind pushed aside the need to find out how much the doctor knew, and the temporary flush of self-pity. If it meant unearthing injustice, her pride could be damned. She attached the files to one final email.

 

_You’re the best. Thank you!_

_Jane_

 

She was surprised to get an almost immediate response:

 

_There isn’t nearly enough empirical evidence to support your claim._

_But thank you._

_M.I._

 

It took a moment to decipher the meaning, but when it became clear, a broad grin spread across her face. The feeling was almost foreign to her, and she wondered how long it had been since she had really smiled.

 

…..

 

"Don't you dare try to sneak in and out of here without saying hello to your mother!"

 

Mid-afternoon meant the station cafe was quiet, and the command rang out even louder than usual. Jane rolled her eyes and pasted a smile on her face. "Hello, mother."

 

"Uh-huh. Come sit down. I'll fix you a sandwich. You're still not eating enough."

 

Jane allowed herself to be led to a small table where she plopped into a chair. "And no man wants a skinny woman, right, Ma?"

 

"I didn't say that," the older woman replied. "Though that handsome guy from the Drug Unit was asking about you?"

 

"Martinez?"

 

"That's the one."

 

"Oh, god," Jane groaned. “How many times to do I have to say I’m not interested?”

 

“Well, one day you might be, so what’s wrong with keeping your options open?”

 

“You know I’m not interested in _those_ options, Ma.”

 

Angela held up her hand. “Just a thought!” Softening her tone, she asked, “How are things?”

 

She didn’t miss her mother’s downward glance and immediately slid her hands under the table. “Things are fine.”

 

Angela clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You never talk to me anymore.”

 

“That’s because the department is paying a shrink to listen to me,” Jane said, her brightness fake and empty.

 

“You still seeing him?”

 

“Once a month until the end of the year. Yay.”

 

“And the physical therapist?”

 

“That ran out six months ago, Ma.” She shrugged away her mother’s surprise.

 

“Oh, my angel.”

 

Unexpectedly, she felt the tears prick her eyes at the childhood endearment. “Ma…”

 

“I’m gonna get you that sandwich. How about I make you a grilled cheese?”

 

“Tomato soup?”

 

Angela smiled and kissed Jane’s temple. “What else would I give you with it?”

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

…..

 

The house was quiet except for the music playing softly in the background. Lights were dimmed save the lamp that shone over Maura’s right shoulder as she read from the pile of folders on the coffee table. Though she loved her job, the hours were relentless and unpredictable, and every spare moment away from work was often spent catching up on even more work. As the Chief M.E. of the Washington office, and one of five medical examiners in the entire country sought by the bureau for “special” cases, her job was very specialized, which meant she had a much larger team under her than most offices. Larger team meant more delegation of tasks, but it also meant more follow ups. She ran her team like the finely tuned Mercedes that sat in her garage, and her meticulous attention to detail was the reason they received some of the highest accolades in the country, year after year. It also meant much more paperwork.

 

She sighed and glanced over the the file she had separated from the rest. Not a “special” case, but a reminder of one. Jane Rizzoli. Not a name she had ever expected to see or hear from again. As with most cases, she assumed the conclusion of their case would reflect the end of their working relationship. Of course, the Hoyt case didn’t end as most cases. Most suspects preferred to go out in a blaze of glory, or they simply faded away for any number of reasons, never to be caught. Not Charles Hoyt. Once he knew there was no escape, he seemed to revel in being captured. He grinned for the camera and winked at the female paramedic who hoisted him into the ambulance. Maura shuddered at the memory. She certainly wasn’t inexperienced in all the ways one person could degrade another, but there was something about Charles Hoyt that scratched in the dark corners of her mind.

 

A sharp knock made her jump, and she let out a small yelp, followed by a short nervous laughter. Closing the file folder, she stood and brushed the non-existent wrinkles from her dress as she walked to the front door. A quick glance through the peephole gave her pause. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she unhooked the chain and turned the deadbolt. Pulling open the heavy door, she greeted the visitor.

 

“Ian.”

 

“Hello, love,” he said, swooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. She held on for dear life, but didn’t return the embrace. Gently placing her on the floor, his grin was broad and gregarious. “No welcoming kiss for the conquering hero?”

 

She glanced outside before quickly closing the door. “What are you doing here?”

 

His smile became a flirty pout. “I remember a time when you’d have me on the floor by now.”

 

“That was a long time ago, Ian.” He approached her and made a move to slip his hands around her waist, but she pulled back and crossed her arms. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

 

The humour fell from his expression. “Maura.” When she said nothing in return, he said, “I know it’s been ages.”

 

“Five years.”

 

“Five years,” he echoed. “I’ve been doing good things in Africa, love. Really amazing things. But I’ve finally gotten some time off. The first time off in, well, five years. Is it wrong that I wanted to come visit an old friend?”

 

The term ‘old friend’ was filled with history and emotional baggage between them. Maura warmed at the thought of what was then, but quickly returned to the reality of what was now. “I find it hard to believe you were just in the neighbourhood.” He shrugged with boyish charm, and it was easy to remember why she fell for him in the first place. “Especially since you’re on INTERPOL’s Most Wanted.”

 

“Nah, I fell off the Top 10 last year.” The joke fell flat and he coughed.

 

“How did you get into the country?”

 

He looked as if he was weighing his options before finally settling on the truth. “Ben let me borrow his passport.”

 

“Oh my god,” Maura said, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “You pulled your brother into this?”

 

“He doesn’t know! About the INTERPOL thing, I mean. I told him I lost my passport. You remember how much he and I look alike.”

 

Maura did remember. In the years she had spent with Médicines sans Frontières, she had met Ben several times, often travelling the long distances between villages in the back of a bumpy Jeep with Ian’s younger brother. The men could be twins.

 

“You can’t be here,” she said, getting right to the point.

 

“Come on, love,” he said. “I’m not here for anything other than companionship.”

 

She clenched her jaw at the reminder she had given him more than that in the past. Young and still fresh with idealism from her experience in Africa, she didn’t hesitate to use her position as assistant pathologist for the Chicago P.D. to ‘procure’ certain medicines that were unavailable to him. And he didn’t hesitate to ask her. The fact that they were sleeping together was simply a pleasant byproduct of their arrangement. She shook her head again, this time at her naivety.

 

“You can’t be here,” she stressed. “I’m a medical examiner for the FBI now. You’re a fugitive. By rights, I should call the authorities.”

 

He tilted his head, as if seeing her for the first time. “You… you wouldn’t do that. Would you?”

 

She glanced towards her phone, then back to the man who stood in front of her, his bravado replaced by an uncommon nervousness. “No, Ian, I wouldn’t. I should, but I won’t. But you’ve got to leave right now...and promise me you won’t come back. Ever.”

 

He blinked several times, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “So this… this is it, Maura?”

 

She steeled herself and replied. “This is it, Ian. Now please, before I change my mind.” Before her words could give him hope, she glanced again at her phone.

 

He nodded. “I see.” Tentatively stepping forward, he pressed his lips against hers one last time. “Look me up if you’re ever in Africa.”

 

The casual way he referred to the continent elicited a small laugh, but she didn’t watch him leave. It was only when she heard the click of the door that she turned around, set the deadbolt, and wiped away a tear.

 

…..

 

“TGIF,” Korsak sighed, dropping into his chair.

 

Jane leaned back in her seat as far as she dared. “I think Crowe’s been drawing dots on the ceiling.”

 

“Maybe you just miscounted last Friday.”

 

She chuckled and sat up. “I know this is going to sound bad, but someone needs to get killed already. Nobody nice. But some scum bag getting a crowbar in the back of the head would do wonders for my attention span.”

 

“How’s that cold case coming along?”

 

Jane frowned at the question, until she remembered their conversation from yesterday. “Oh, yeah. She’s going to help.”

 

“Really?” Korsak asked. “I’m impressed. Must be that infamous Rizzoli charm. Or did you just keep pestering her until she gave in?”

 

Jane smirked. “I don’t want to speak for her.”

 

“You mean you plead the Fifth. What’s the case you’re working on?”

 

Fortunately, her email notification pinged, saving her from having to lie.

 

_Detective,_

_There are certain elements of your case I’d like to go over with you. I know it’s late in the day, so perhaps we could set some time aside on Monday to discuss them._

_Looking forward to your reply._

_-M.I._

 

“Ha!” Jane said, pointing to her monitor. “She said she’s ‘looking forward to your reply’. Well, my reply. Score one for the charm!”

 

_Doctor,_

_Why don’t we set up something for tonight? These back and forth emails make it hard to get in the feel of the conversation. Let’s hook up over Skype. How does 7 sound? Unless you’ve got a hot date, then Monday is good._

_Let me know._

_-Jane_

 

“Did you end it with hugs and kisses?”

 

“Damn,” she sighed dramatically. “Why didn’t you say something before I hit ‘send’?”

 

…..

 

“A ‘hot date’,” Maura read aloud, a deep crease forming between her eyebrows. The colloquialism escaped her, though she imagined the detective implied a social engagement. What she wasn’t imagining was the slight increase in her heart rate at the idea of having to consult with someone face to face. It wasn’t as though her job allowed her to avoid human interaction - she did work in a team of over 20, and the office employed over 100 agents, after all - but much of her work involved long hours in the morgue and minimal contact with people. At least the live ones.

 

She now found herself faced with the sly yet determined invitation of Detective Rizzoli, and it confounded her. How did this go from a professional request to a casual discussion in the span of two days? And how did she go from a firm denial to resigned consideration in that same time? She re-read the short email. Yes, speaking face to face would no doubt be the easiest option for both of them. Questions and answers could be shared more quickly, and Maura wouldn’t have to worry about misconstruing tone and meaning often hidden between the written word. And the detective wouldn’t have to type so much. Maura sighed. She wasn’t without sympathy, despite the “Queen of the Dead” moniker given to her.

 

_Besides_ , she thought, _we’ll keep it short and to the point._

She quickly constructed a reply and hit ‘send’.

 

…..

 

With a hook of her left heel, Jane slammed the apartment door behind her, and muttered an apology to the neighbours as she managed her way to the kitchen, pizza in one hand, beer and keys in the other, and a bag of garlic bread between her teeth. She dropped everything on the counter in a heap, tossing the keys into a nearby bowl. Kicking off her boots and sliding her blazer off her shoulders, she cracked open a beer and lifted the lid of the pizza box.

 

“Dinner of champions,” she said, toasting the small fish in the corner. Korsak, the hero to animals everywhere, had tried to pawn off a furball on her time and time again. Somehow, she ended up accepting a fish. “How the hell does someone _find_ a fish?” she asked, sprinkling some flakes into the aquarium.

 

Though the lure of the pizza was almost too much, she stripped down and hopped into the shower, revelling in the hot water that cascaded over aching muscles. She held her hands up to the steady stream and her head lolled back in contentment. Reluctantly, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel, briskly drying herself off before slipping into a pair of sweats and a Red Sox henley. “Miss me, Nemo?” she asked, but got no reply from the fish. “So rude.” Taking a look around and gauging the camera width on her laptop, she pushed aside a few dirty clothes and deemed it good enough.

 

“Five to seven,” she said, looking at her watch. “I bet she’s prompt. Like, to the minute. What do you think, Nemo?” Again, the fish remained impassive to her questions. Grabbing a beer and the pizza, Jane settled into a chair and opened up her computer. As predicted, the digital clock rolled over to ‘7:00’ when she heard the familiar Skype notification. Jane clicked the icon and adjusted the camera.

 

It had never occurred to her to research Maura Isles. She knew enough of the woman’s professional reputation that she didn’t bother to look any further. So when the doctor’s image appeared, Jane felt her eyebrows hit her hairline.

 

“Wow,” she said. “This is way better than email.”

 

“Hello, Detective Rizzoli.”

 

Jane blinked, reigning in her reaction to the stunning blonde. “Please, call me ‘Jane’.”

 

“And you can do the same. I mean, call me by my first name. ‘Maura’.” She stumbled and looked away. “I apologize. I’m often not very good with people.”

 

Jane dismissed the apology with a wave of her beer. “Don’t worry about it. Just relax a little and you’ll be fine. Do you want me to give you a minute to get into some comfortable clothes? I find that always helps.”

 

Maura glanced down at her wardrobe and frowned. “These are my comfortable clothes.”

 

The beer stopped at Jane’s lips and the detective smiled. “Okaaay.”

 

“Should we get down to business?”

 

“Oh, right. Sorry. I bet you have places to be on a Friday night.”

 

Tilting her head, Maura asked, “What would give you that impression?”

 

“I just mean… I bet your Fridays are always booked. With dates. And things.” Jane cringed inwardly at her words. _And things? Are you 12?_

 

Maura simply shook her head. “No. You were the only ‘thing’ I have scheduled for this evening.”

 

“Well, it’s my lucky day,” Jane smiled warmly. “So what did you want to talk about?”

 

“Oh, yes, the cases,” Maura replied. “I must confess, my initial thoughts are to agree with the Medical Examiner’s findings.”

 

“Assistant Medical Examiner.”

 

“Yes, well, be that as it may, on the surface, the determinations seem sound.”

 

“Wait. ‘Initial thoughts’ and ‘on the surface’. You think there’s something more.”

 

Maura held up a hand and made a slight amendment to Jane’s comment. “I can see why you’d think there may be something more. My concern is the lack of detail in the report.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Maura reached out of camera range. “This,” she said, holding up a folder, “is one of the current cases I’m working on. Suspicious death in Pennsylvania. One death.” Jane saw the thickness of the folder. “Of course, every case is different. Some might not have enough information to even warrant a page, but the medical examiner’s report should have something more than the required paperwork. Notes. Sketches. Shorthand. I photocopy my notes and put them in the official report, regardless of the outcome or my judgment of their importance. All of those things are lacking in your folder.”

 

Jane frowned. She always knew Pike cut corners, but Maura’s words drew a sharp line under his inadequacies. “Maybe I can fill in some of the blanks. I was the detective on scene for all three.”

 

Shaking her head, Maura replied, “There are things that requires the eye of someone trained in science.”

 

Jane bristled at the comment. “So the average cop can’t see these things.”

 

There was a harshness to the reply that caught Maura’s attention. “Oh. No. I mean, you’ve mistaken what I meant. There are details that are missing from the very beginning of Dr. Pike’s arrival. What was the temperature of the room when he entered? What did it smell like? Did he check for the presence of carbon monoxide? You may be able to tell me if it was warm or cold, or if the area smelled like almonds, but the medical examiner should be able to provide specific detail. It’s in the detail that we find the solutions.”

 

Jane nodded her understanding. “And now it’s too late to go back and find out.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Hmmm. Well, I can tell you it didn’t smell like almonds. I know that’s the trigger for arsenic.”

 

Maura smiled. “Very good, Detective. But did you know only 40% of the population can smell arsenic? I fear your examiner couldn’t smell it either, and concluded there wasn’t any. If he gave it thought at all.”

 

“I didn’t think of arsenic. Do you think that’s what we’re dealing with?”

 

“I didn’t say that.” She halted Jane’s train of thought immediately. “I like to deal more with what I know than what I think. Arsenic is only one of many possibilities, though I would find it hard to believe even Dr. Pike would miss the obvious outward signs of arsenicosis. Leukonychia - white bands or spots on the fingernails - would be immediately evident. My primary issue is the simplicity of the toxicology report. While I may not immediately associate the death with arsenic, I would still test for its presence. He seems to have only run a very basic screen: stimulants, barbiturates, and alcohol. It’s as if he had a theory before examining the bodies, and only conducted the autopsy to lead the conclusions to his theory.”

 

“He thinks they were all some kind of drug user or alcoholic. Or both.”

 

“Did the victims fit that profile?”

 

“Not at all,” Jane replied. “I mean,” she lifted her beer, “I’d hate to fall, hit my head and die and have anyone blame it on alcoholism. Not that I wouldn’t have reason to drink myself into oblivion.”

 

“No, I wouldn’t think so.”

 

“Sorry, did I say that out loud?” They were silent for a moment, and Jane internally chastised herself. “Anyway…”

 

“Anyway,” Maura picked up the trailing thought, “I’m afraid there’s not much I can tell you, due to the lack of information available to me.”

 

“But not due to an overwhelming amount of evidence to support the initial findings.”

 

Maura shook her head. “No.”

 

Jane slumped her shoulders and blew out a long breath. “Okay. I appreciate you taking a look. I’m not sure where to go from here, but thanks.”

 

“My pleasure. If there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”

 

“I will. And I’m looking forward to talking to you tomorrow night.”

 

Maura blinked. “I’m sorry?”

 

“You look like you could use a hand on that Pennsylvania case. Same time tomorrow?”

 

Though it was asked as a question, Jane’s confidence made it sound like a sure thing. Maura could only shake her head. “Same time tomorrow.”

 

“Good. Send me what you got and I’ll take a look.”

 

“I will. And Detective? You’re much more than an average cop.”

 

Before Jane could find her voice to respond, the connection ended.

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea of Jane playfully badgering Maura out of her shell. When she realizes Jane won't judge her for it, she slowly pokes her head out of her shell. It's no wonder she has a tortoise for a pet; they have much in common.

.....

 

“So, have you solved your case yet?”

 

Maura tutted at the directness of Jane’s greeting. “I’m well, and how are you?”

 

Jane grinned and took a drink of her beer. “I’m well, too. So?”

 

“I don’t really solve cases, Detective. I like to think it’s a more collaborative effort between my team and the investigative agents.

 

“Wow, if that isn’t fed-speak, I don’t know what is.”

 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

 

“I mean, relax. Talk to me like, I don’t know, like I’m a friend instead of a colleague. It’s Saturday night. Have a beer. Wind down.”

 

Maura paused at the suggestion. “I do have a bottle of wine I’ve been dying to open.”

 

“So go on and open it. I’ll wait.” The doctor appeared to weigh the invitation until Jane waved her away. “Shoo. Go.”

 

“Well… all right.”

 

With the woman out of the picture, literally, Jane was given a small yet detailed view of the room. Clearly it was an office of some sort, with a bookcase full of titles she didn’t recognize behind the desk where the computer sat. Off to the left appeared to be a row of degrees, identifiable only by the huge red seal that was synonymous with graduation. There were a lot of them. Jane silently whistled. She searched in vain for photos of family, vacation or friends, but found none. It was a stark contrast to the bookshelf she had crammed full of memories.

 

The blonde returned with a bottle and a glass. “Sorry,” she apologized, “but I wanted to give the wine time to breathe.”

 

“You’re very smart,” Jane said.

 

Maura seemed puzzled until she looked over her shoulder. “Oh.” Returning her attention to Jane, she said, “You’re very observant.”

 

“Part of the job,” she replied with a shrug. “You don’t turn off very much, do you?”

 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You never get comfortable. I mean, here I am in my schlubby clothes, my ass parked on a living room couch that saw better days 2 years ago. You’re all,” she gestured to the screen, “put together, sitting in your home office. You are at home, right?”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of having wine at work.”

 

The tone was slightly defensive, and Jane realized what her words seemed to imply. “I’m not judging you, Maura. Just…being observant.” She punctuated the comment with a smile.

 

It seemed to soften the woman somewhat. “Studies have shown productivity goes up if one separates work space from personal space.”

 

“So no work in the bedroom?”

 

“Strictly off-limits.”

 

“But it’s where I get some of my best ‘Eureka’ moments.”

 

Maura shook her head. “The idea that you do your best work in the bedroom isn’t true.” Jane smirked and Maura brought her hand up to her mouth. “I assure you that sounded much different in my head.”

 

“That’s okay, I think I like the way it sounded coming out of your mouth.”

 

Maura took a sip of her wine to cover her embarrassment. “Does this mean you’ve solved my case?”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“You asked for the files and you’ve alluded to being proficient in bed. Work. In the bedroom.”

 

Jane let her off the hook with a wink. “You’re wavering on the COD. I have some ideas about that.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Gunshot. #1 type of homicide in the country.”

 

Maura frowned. “There wasn’t a gunshot wound on the victim.”

 

“Stabbing. #2.”

 

“There were no entry-”

 

“Blunt force trauma to the head. #3.”

 

“But-”

 

“Beaten. Poisoned. Blown up. Fire. Overdosed. Strangled,”

 

Maura burst out laughing. “Stop!”

 

“Ah, there it is.”

 

She covered her laughter with the back of her hand. “There it is?”

 

“Your laugh.”

 

It gently faded away, leaving a smile behind. “Did you even read the file??”

 

“Yeah, I gave it a glance. Guy has a heart attack while driving his car. Smashes into a tree. You’ve got the COD as heart failure. Why do you think there’s more to it?”

 

“Because I examined his heart and saw no reason to see why it would fail. No signs of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, no evidence of the strain an irregular heartbeat would leave on the muscle, no coronary artery disease. Statistically, it is extremely rare for a man of his age to die of heart failure.”

 

“Rare, but not impossible.”

 

Maura sighed. “No. Not impossible.”

 

“And you hate that. You hate not being able to say 100% either way.”

 

“My job deals in black and white, Detective. You of all people should know that.”

 

“You know, you can call me ‘Jane’.” When no response was forthcoming, she said, “Or, you know, just keep calling me ‘Detective’. That’s good, too.” She took a pull from her beer. “So what is it about this case that got the Feds called in? Usually they need something more than a questionable COD to butt into things.” She looked at Maura and remembered the woman was also a federal employee. “No offense.”

 

“None taken. Jane.”

 

The detective grinned. “Yay, you _can_ say it! We should practice, so the next time you don’t look like you just bit into a lemon.”

 

Maura acknowledged the jibe with a scowl, but tempered it with a small smile. “To answer your question, the Pennsylvania M.E wanted a second opinion.”

 

“So you _do_ do consultations. Why’d you say no to me?”

 

“Because she’s an old friend.”

 

“How old? Like, is she in her 80’s?”

 

“What? No. She’s 41.”

 

“So only 5 years older than me. I think I should qualify as an old friend.”

 

“I’m… you’re very confusing.”

 

Jane winked. “I’m just teasing. And in the end, you said ‘yes’ to me anyway. That’s all that matters.”

 

“I suspect you have no problem getting people to say ‘yes’ to you.”

 

“Are you flirting with me, Dr. Isles?”

 

“No! I was simply… you’re teasing me again.”

 

“It won’t be as much fun once you start catching on.”

 

“As far as the Pennsylvania case goes…”

 

Jane nodded. “Right. I can take a closer look at the police reports if you want. You know what you thought of the medical report in my case? I feel the same way about the police report in yours. It’s a little thin on the investigative side.”

 

“I don’t blame them really,” Maura said. “I’m sure on the surface it looked like a simple car accident. And in fact, that might be all it is. I may know more tomorrow.”

 

“What’s tomorrow?”

 

“I’m driving out to Harrisburg to revisit the scene. Perhaps something there will fill in some of the blanks.”

 

Frowning, Jane said, “You’re driving all the way out to Pennsylvania?”

 

“It’s only 2 hours,” Maura replied. “It will be a nice Sunday drive.”

 

“By yourself?”

 

‘Yes.” Maura sounded confused.

 

“I don’t like it,” Jane said firmly. “You shouldn’t be going alone. Anything can happen.”

 

“I have wonderful coverage if my car breaks down,” she assured her. “And I’m fairly confident I won’t get kidnapp-” The word froze in her throat. “That was horribly inappropriate, Jane. I’m sorry.”

 

Jane shook her head as a way to dismiss the apology. Finishing off her beer in one long drink, she carefully set it to the side and opened another. “It happens. That’s what therapy’s for, right?” Maura still looked stricken and Jane said softly, “Hey. It’s okay. Just try not to say something like, ‘I’ve pinned down the answer’. That one still hits a nerve.” The second beer was even better than the first, and she made short work of half the bottle. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you called me ‘Jane’ again. And you didn’t even make a face.” The comment lightened the mood and Maura flashed an admiring smile. “So you’re going to Skype me when you get back.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“When you get back from Pennsylvania. Oh!” Jane tapped her forehead. “Can you hold off calling until 9? I got a family thing I’m required to attend or my mother will drag me there by my ears.”

 

A laugh escaped Maura’s lips. “Really?”

 

“It’s an Italian thing,” Jane shrugged.

 

Maura shook her head. “I’ll text you when I get back.”

 

“No. Call me at 9, for two reasons. One, it’ll give me a fabulous excuse to get away from another family dinner that just ends up with my parents fighting and my brothers yelling. And two, if you text me, how will I know it’s not the killer?” She gave an exaggerated shrug to let Maura know she could handle the topic.

 

Making a face, Maura replied, “How would the killer know I was meant to text you? And why would he bother?”

 

“Because they’re clearly crazy people. Who knows why they do anything?”

 

“I… okay. I’ll Skype you at 9. How did I get talked into any of this?”

 

Jane beamed. “My partner-” she paused at the term, her smile faltering somewhat as she remembered Korsak was no longer her partner. “Korsak said it was the Rizzoli charm.”

 

“It’s certainly something.”

 

“Oooh!” Jane said. “Was that sarcasm?”

 

“No. I’m not very good with sarcasm.” Maura paused. “I’d say it was more… an odd form of flattery.”

 

The smile returned full force. “You better call tomorrow night. Or I will be unflattered. Good night, Maura.”

 

“Good night. Jane.”

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were so many ways to make Frank Sr. an asshole without having to go right to the "HE DRINKS!!" Some men are just bitter guys who take it out passive-aggressively on their family. It's just as damaging as blurting out insults to your kids when you're drunk. I also wonder how different the show would have been if they had established Jane being gay from the very beginning, rather than having to deal with it later. Not that I think they ever thought of directing Jane towards being gay, but imagine having that "is she/isn't she" out of the way right from the beginning? We could have avoided 5 years of beards and just dealt with a growing, layered relationship between two women.

…..

 

Thought the fighting went off as predicted, in the end, the yelling was reserved for the television and the Patriots. The late game had completely escaped Jane’s mind, and when the family gathered around the TV at 8:15, she knew her plans to be home before nine were out the window. Short of just getting up and leaving, there was no way she could get out of a family tradition. With a huff and a sigh, she flopped onto the couch and crossed her arms tightly.

 

Why she was so deflated about not being able to get home to receive Maura’s call, she wasn’t sure. She only knew the medical examiner through professional channels, and that fledgling relationship was only four days old. Yet she already felt more comfortable with a near stranger than she had with friends and family in the 12 months since Hoyt. Her palms twitched in remembered pain. Maybe she didn’t feel the pressure of being ‘Jane Rizzoli, Homicide Detective’ with Maura. No preconceptions, no expectations. Or maybe she could look the woman in the eye and not see the worry and pity everyone else tried to hide. Whatever the reason, she was stuck here.

 

Her mother must have seen the expression on her face because she asked, “What’s the matter?”

 

“What? Nothing. Why?”

 

“‘Cause you look like you want to be anywhere else but here.”

 

Jane tried to deflect the soft accusation with a shrug. “The Pats and the Browns? Anywhere else but here would be a hell of a lot more exciting.”

 

This got her father’s attention. “You wanna be somewhere else? Somethin’ more important than watching the game with your family?”

 

“No, Pop,” she sighed. “The murder I’m trying to solve isn’t nearly as important as seeing Brady run up the score.”

 

“You got a hot case, Janie?” Frankie asked.

 

She looked at her brother, the eager young cop who was trying to work his way up from Traffic. “Until they’re solved, all the cases are hot, Frankie. Even the cold ones.”

 

“Don’t see what the big deal is leavin’ it for a night. They’re not gonna get any deader.” Frank Sr. took a swig from his beer, oblivious to the hard stare from his daughter.

 

The reply that formed on her lips was halted by a quick intervention from her mother. “Let’s just all watch the game, right?” Angela suggested as she passed around snack bowls.

 

“Good thinkin’, Ma,” Tommy said. “Now, I got $20 on the Pats with a 17 point spread. Who’s takin’ it?”

 

Frankie snorted. “Two TDs and a field goal? This is gonna be a massacre. I’ll put $20 on 3 TDs.”

 

Jane wedged herself further into the couch and resigned herself to the inevitable. “31 points and they’ll have it before the half.”

 

Tommy raised his eyebrows. “4 TDs and a field goal before half time? I need to get a job with the police if they’re givin’ ya money to blow.”

 

“Yeah,” she agreed with a feigned smile, “I do it all for the money, Tommy. Just make sure you two Einsteins have the cash up front this time. I’m still waiting for the $50 from last weekend, Frankie.”

 

“I woulda had it if they hadn’t have given up a safety with a minute to go,” he protested.

 

“Woulda, but didn’t. Let’s get this show started.” As if on cue, the first notes of the Sunday Night Football theme began, and Jane sighed.

 

…..

 

Maura settled down comfortably in her ergonomic chair and she sipped her wine as she waited dutifully for the clock to strike 9 pm. The trip to Harrisburg yielded no further evidence about the case, though if she were asked, she would admit she hadn’t really expected anything. But she always liked to see for herself, finding comfort in knowing she could draw as many of her conclusions from her own observations as possible. Unfortunately, the crime scene was on a common road and even if there had been evidence to find, it was long gone. More importantly, at the family’s insistence, the medical examiner had signed off on the case, so there wasn’t a body for Maura to review.

 

_Oh, well_ , she thought. _Maybe it really was a simple accident due to heart failure._ Her eyes flicked down to the digital clock. _Maybe Jane found something._

_Jane._

The name had quickly become synonymous with a smile. How this whirlwind brunette had insinuated herself into Maura’s carefully crafted life was a mystery. In less than one week, she had the normally solitary doctor not only agreeing to regular Skype calls, but actually checking in with the detective. She took another sip of her wine and shook her head in bemused disbelief.

 

The clock changed from 8:59 to 9:00 and she clicked on the icon. She warmed as the familiar chime announced the connection, and waited patiently for a reply. A line formed between Maura’s eyebrows. Clicking the icon again, she waited...and waited. She replayed their last conversation in her head. _After Harrisburg. Sunday night. 9PM._ She clicked the icon one last time before finally admitting there would be no response. Closing the window, she sat back and stared at the blank monitor. The warmth dissipated, and the wine lost its flavour. She tried to convince herself there were a number of reasons Jane didn’t answer; she was, after all, a police officer who could be called to duty at a minute’s notice. Part of her was placated by her sage reasoning. But another part surprised her with a feeling that was intimately familiar - disappointment. It was an albatross she had struggled to shed since she was a child, and she had tried to plan a life that would avoid the disappointments people often brought with them. _I should have been more careful, she reprimanded herself._ Closing the laptop, she sat down the wine glass and made her way to the yoga room.

 

…..

 

“I don’t fucking believe it!” Frankie yelled in disgust. Frank, Angela and Tommy all whooped in delight and Frankie punched his brother. “I don’t know what you’re happy about - you owe her money, too.”

 

Tommy shrugged. “I owed her money two touchdowns ago. Might as well celebrate somethin’, right?”

 

“44-3. I don’t fucking believe it,” he repeated.

 

“34-zip at half time,” Tommy said in disbelief. “Janie, we gotta go to Vegas some time!”

 

“Yeah, well, if I ever get the money you guys owe me, I might be able to afford it,” she said, standing and stretching.

 

“Hey,” Tommy said, “I always pay.” He pulled a bill from his wallet.

 

“I gotta hand it to ya,” Frank admitted, “you never have a job, but you always got money. Don’t know how you manage it. I work 12 hours a day and can barely make ends meet.”

 

The accusing tone didn’t go unnoticed and Jane scowled. “On that note,” she took the money from Tommy, “I gotta go. Thanks for paying up, little brother.” She narrowed her eyes at Frankie. “And now you owe me $70. I want it by Friday or pictures of you crying on Santa’s knee when you were 5 find their way onto the bulletin board at work.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

She was nearly at the door when her mother caught up. “You forgot the leftovers. Thought I’d better give ‘em to you before your brothers swooped in. You know they’re like vultures.”

 

Jane smiled, though her heart wasn’t in it. “Thanks, Ma.”

 

“Are you… are you seein’ someone?”

 

Jane’s eyes widened. “What?”

 

“I mean, you were in such a hurry to get out of here earlier, and you usually stick around after the game.”

 

“So that means I’m seeing someone? Ma, when would I get time to see someone? If I’m not at work, I’m in therapy, or I’m here listening to Pop complain how he works so hard and we’ve got it easy.”

 

“You know he doesn’t mean that.”

 

“Doesn’t he? And we all wonder why Tommy doesn’t give a shit.”

 

Angela was taken aback by Jane’s venom. “Where’s all this coming from?”

 

“Nowhere, Ma.” Jane took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just…” she rubbed her forehead. “It’s been a long year, you know?” She laughed at her reference of time. Most people had long days. She had 365 of them. Her mother tried to take her hand, but she pulled away quickly.

 

“All I’ve ever wanted to do was help you, you know that, don’t you, Janie?”

 

“Yeah, Ma.” There was no response and Jane felt a wave of regret. “I’m sorry, Ma,” she said again, this time her apology a heartfelt one. “And no, I’m not seeing someone.”

 

“Okay. You’d tell me though, right?”

 

Jane managed a small grin. “Of course. You’d be the fifth person to know.”

 

Angela swatted her arm. “Funny girl.” She helped Jane into her coat while juggling the leftovers. “Give me a call if you need anything, okay?”

 

Jane pulled the door open and accepted the kiss on the cheek without complaint. “I will, Ma. See you tomorrow.”

 

She stepped out into the night, drawing in a deep breath of the cool, autumn air. The breeze swept over her and she pulled the jacket closed as she made her way to the car. Glancing at the time, she made some quick calculations before slotting the key into the ignition.

 

…..

 

_Sorry. A 40 point blowout wasn’t a good enough reason to leave my parents._

 

The text notification jarred Maura out of her light meditation. The screen lit up to reveal an unknown number. Puzzled, she picked up the phone and typed a reply.

 

_I think you may have the wrong number._

 

A minute passed.

 

_Maura Isles, right?_

 

Maura frowned.

 

_Yes. Who is this?_

_I’m hurt you would forget your better-than-average detective so soon._

 

Maura couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at her mouth.

 

_This is a private number. How did you get it?_

_What? You think only the feds can find things? I know people._

 

She was so impressed at the detective’s persistence that she didn’t realize several minutes had passed.

 

_So do you accept my apology or are you still trying to figure out who this is?_

_I’m well aware who this is, Detective._

_Oh, back to that, huh? Jane would be shorter to type, but whatever._

 

Maura imagined the woman with a small keypad and her hand injuries.

 

_You should worry more about your typing and less about mine._

 

When she got no response, she re-read her message.

 

_I only meant I worry about you overworking your hands. I’m sorry._

_This is why we need to talk instead of text. How about tomorrow night? You can tell me all about Harrisburg._

_There’s not much to tell._

_Tell me anyway._

The warmth returned to Maura’s cheeks. The notification chimed again.

 

_So I’ll talk to you at 7._

 

She could only be truthful.

 

_I’m looking forward to it, Jane._

_Yay, Jane! Me, too._

 

…..

 

“Rizzoli!” Lieutenant Cavanaugh barked from his office door, then jerked his head.

 

“Yes, sir,” she replied, already halfway across the bullpen. She tried to make eye contact with Korsak as she passed his desk, but he didn’t look up. She knew why she was summoned to Cavanaugh’s office, and so did he. Without a glance back, she drew in a deep breath and stepped over the threshold.

 

“Detective Jane Rizzoli, I’d like you to meet your new partner, Detective Barry Frost. He’s come up from Robbery, and I think he’s gonna do great.”

 

She had read his file when she found out the lieutenant had chosen him to be Korsak’s replacement. To Cavanaugh’s credit, he didn’t ask why she had put in the request, and based on the file, she’d give him even more credit for picking out the young man who stood before her. He looked young - very young - but his boyish face belied his 5 years of experience as a detective. Sharply dressed, he carried himself with a touch of nervousness, but a boatload of confidence. He met her gaze and nearly blinded her with his smile.

 

“Very pleased to meet you,” he said, extending his hand.

 

She looked down at it, but made no move to return the gesture. “You, too. I’ve heard some good things about you.”

 

As if realizing his faux pas, he quickly dropped his arm. “My bad,” he said, almost under his breath. “I hope I don’t disappoint you, Detective Rizzoli.”

 

“You’ll only disappoint me if you keep calling me ‘Detective Rizzoli’. First or last name is fine.”

 

He nodded. “Understood. I hope you’ll do the same.”

 

“Great.” Cavanaugh clapped once, loudly. “Kumbaya, now let’s get at it. You know the drill, Rizzoli. Split up your cold case files and put him to work. Frost, get to it. You got any questions?”

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Good. If you do, ask your new partner.”

 

Jane lightly tapped Frost on the shoulder. “That’s our cue to go before he finds us something to do, and we don’t want that.”

 

“Got it.”

 

As they entered the bullpen, Jane gestured towards two desks pushed together to face each other. “Your first challenge here in Homicide is to figure out which desk is yours.” He grinned and took the desk to his right, which was clear of anything other than a computer. “Great. Now let’s see how you do with these.” She took a stack of cold case files from the box under her desk and carefully placed them on his.

 

He eyeballed the stack and hummed. “Doesn’t look so bad. About 14 files?”

 

“Korsak!” Jane called out. “Rookie needs some more work. Whattaya got?”

 

The detective sauntered over with a pile of his own. “Detective Vince Korsak,” he said, introducing himself. “And you’re real swell to take some of these off my hands.” He ended the sentence with a smirk and a wink.

 

Frost nodded. “I get it, I get it. Rookie needs to keep his mouth shut. Barry Frost. Nice to meet you, sir.” He took the folders from Korsak and shook the older man’s hand.

 

“‘Sir’?” Jane repeated. “Oh no, that stops right now. He’s fine answering to ‘Korsak’.”

 

“Only because you never called me anything else,” he said.

 

“Would you have preferred I called you ‘Vincent’?” She batted her eyes facetiously.

 

He made a face. “My second wife called me that.”

 

Frost looked at Jane and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “How many times has he been married?”

 

“I’m old, not deaf,” Korsak admonished, making his way back to his desk. “And the answer is ‘3’.”

 

Jane leaned forward. "So no dating tips from the old guy."

 

Korsak snorted. "Like you've had better luck with women. At this rate, you might wanna take your Mom up on the whole Martinez thing."

 

Seeing Jane wrinkle her nose, Frost glanced between the pair. "Sorry, I'm confused."

 

"'Rizzoli'," she began. "Italian-American. Italian-American Catholic. 20 years since I hit puberty and she still thinks all I need is a good man to set me straight."

 

"Literally!" Korsak chortled.

 

She threw him a glare, but looked back at Frost. "You don't have a problem with that, do you?"

 

"Hell no," he replied adamantly. "My mom's married to a woman. She'd kick my ass." Jane smiled, grateful it wasn't going to be an issue. "If you ever need a wingman, let me know."

 

"Just when I was about to like you, Frost."

 

Their banter was broken up when Korsak's phone rang. Back to business, Frost placed his hand on the folders the two detectives had given him.

 

"Any particular order to these, or...?"

 

He was looking for suggestions, and Jane shook her head. "Totally up to you. My advice? Skim through them all, see what catches your eye. To be honest, we've been chasing our tail on some of those since we got promoted, and Korsak was here the day they discovered fire."

 

He flipped her the bird and, covering the mouthpiece said, "Used to come into work on a Brontosaurus."

 

Frost grinned and nodded. "Okay. Taking it from the top."

 

She woke her computer, and when she saw the e-mail icon in the bottom corner, she looked across to her new partner. "Hold off a minute. I want you to take a look at something.” She clicked her mouse several times, explaining as she went, "Guy dies in a car accident, and the medical examiner calls it heart failure, even though she's not really convinced. But she's got nothing to refute it, and the family pushes her to sign off on it."

 

"I'm following," Frost said.

 

"The police report is thin. They didn't do much more than a cursory investigation. Not that I blame them - seemed fairly straightforward, and they didn't have anything to make them dig deeper."

 

"Standard vehicular fatality."

 

"Yep."

 

Frost's computer pinged. Clicking open the file, he said, "But you're not buying it?"

 

She shrugged. "I wasn't there. Just doing this for a friend."

 

His eyes narrowed as he skimmed the information. "A friend in Pennsylvania?"

 

"Well, a friend in Washington who's doing it for a friend in Pennsylvania."

 

The e-mail address caught his eye. Glancing around the bullpen, he spoke only as loud as she needed to hear. "The Feds??"

 

She almost grinned at his panicked expression. "Relax. You're the new guy. Anyone finds out, I'll take the heat."

 

"Or, the new guy gets thrown under the bus."

 

Her near grin turned to stone. "If you don't trust me, you might as well put in a transfer request now." Standing, she said, "I'm heading down to the morgue for a few minutes. It's up to you if you want to be here when I get back."

 

Korsak had silently watched the exchange, and when he caught the rookie’s eye, he raised an eyebrow. “Trouble?”

 

Frost looked shellshocked. “I…”

 

“Listen, whatever it is, she’ll be the best partner you’ll ever have. I know she’s gonna push that line to see how far she can trust you. It’s up to you to decide what side of it you want to stand on.”

 

He contemplated the words. “You two were partners once. Did she push the line too far with you? Is that what happened?”

 

Korsak barked out an empty laugh. “Charles Hoyt happened. But that’s not my story to tell. My advice? Give her a chance and she’ll do the same for you.”

 

Frost nodded, looked at his computer, and began typing.

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little bit of Susie Chang, little bit of Frost in this chapter.

 

…..

 

A small collision occurred outside the elevator that opened to the morgue, and a young woman in a lab coat jumped back in alarm.

 

“Sorry, Detective Rizzoli!”

 

Jane smiled away the apology. “Don’t worry about it, Dr. Chang.”

 

“Oh, I’m not a doctor.”

 

“I know,” she said. “It’s just ‘Senior Criminalist Chang’ is a mouthful. Anyway, you’re just the person I wanted to see.”

 

“Really?” Chang asked, suspiciously. “If this is another Mentos and soda experiment, the answer is ‘no’.”

 

“Come on. We got him off the ground for 3 seconds! Isn’t science all about discovery?”

 

“And we’re still ‘discovering’ sticky spots throughout the lab. There are stains on the ceiling!”

 

She tried to cover her snort. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not here for that.” Chang’s raised eyebrow prompted her to continue. “Do you still have the blood samples for Mindy Paulsen and Chester Buschini?”

 

The criminalist frowned. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific. I really only know them by case number.”

 

Jane nodded and pursed her lips in thought. “How about two victims Pike signed off on as blunt force trauma to the head caused by high level of alcohol or barbiturates in their systems? Another one came in last week; he thinks it’s the same cause of death.”

 

“Ah, I do remember those,” Chang said. “Yes, we keep blood samples for one full year from the time they were taken. Why?” Jane looked around before pulling the young woman off to the side. “Oh, I’m not going to like this, am I?”

 

Ignoring her concern, Jane said, “I need you to run the toxicology tests again.”

 

“What? No. I mean, why?”

 

Rather than answering the question directly, Jane asked one of her own. “What do you think of Dr. Pike’s methods?”

 

“They are…adequate. Have I mentioned how uncomfortable this is?”

 

“Did you find the toxicology reports on those two victims adequate?” The criminalist hesitated and Jane smiled. “Look. I know this puts you in an awkward position, but believe me when I say all I want to do is make sure we’ve done everything in our power to give the victims 100% of our attention.”

 

Chang glanced at her feet, then over her shoulder before whispering, “I would rate Dr. Pike’s thoroughness to be approximately 72%.”

 

Jane didn’t bother asking how that specific number had been calculated. “So not quite adequate?”

 

“The toxicology report was pretty thin,” she admitted.

 

Taking a deep breath, Jane knew she had all but agreed to help. “Would you consider...making it not so thin?”

 

“You want me to re-run the tests,” she stated. “What is it you’re looking for?”

 

“I don’t know,” Jane conceded, “but I want to make sure there’s nothing more than what Pike was looking for.”

 

Chang pondered this for a moment. “I could run the immunoassay again, then a gas chromatography with a mass spectrometry for good measure.”

 

“Slow down, Thelma, Scooby doesn’t understand geek speak.” This received a confused look and Jane shook her head. “Forget it. How long will all this take?”

 

She seemed to do a quick calculation in her head. “Normally I’d say I’d have it by the end of the day, but due to the covertness of your request, I don’t want to draw attention to what I’m doing. How about tomorrow morning?”

 

“Sounds perfect, 007.”

 

Chang’s face lit up. “I get that reference!”

 

…..

 

The bullpen was filled with a quiet hum as Jane entered. A coffee cup and a small stack of papers sat on her desk.

 

"What's this?" She gestured towards the items.

 

"Detective Korsak brought the coffee. Said I should use it as a peace offering." Frost looked at her sheepishly.

 

"Uh-huh," she replied. "And this?" she asked, holding up the paper.

 

"I thought a better peace offering would be following up on that case you asked me about."

 

Jane scanned the top page. Sure enough, it was information on the Pennsylvania case. She sat and leafed through the pages. “So what’s your take on it?” Frost looked across the conjoined desks and hesitated long enough for Jane to smile. “It’s not a trick question. Just tell me what your first impression is.”

 

“Well,” he tapped a pen against the top of his desk. “Looks pretty straightforward. Guy gets behind the wheel, has some kind of heart problem, crashes, dies.”

 

“Yep, looks pretty straightforward,” Jane agreed. “But…?”

 

“But…I take it the person who sent you the file thinks there’s something more.”

 

“She does.”

 

“And she’s not the kind to assume things without reason?”

 

Jane shook her head and softly chuckled. “I’m pretty sure the answer is ‘no’.”

 

“Okay. But no evidence of vehicle tampering. Nothing in the tox report.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Frost scratched the back of his neck. “The financials are a bit off on the husband, if you know where to look.”

 

“And you know where to look.”

 

He grinned. “I might have a magic shovel, know where to dig. Take a look at the third page.”

 

She flipped to page three. Brows furrowed as she quietly read. “He opened a separate bank account last year.”

 

“I went back 12 months on the joint account. Take a look at the family expenditures.”

 

She ran her finger down the bank statement. “$6500 a month,” she whistled. “Wish I had that kind of money to expend.”

 

Frost smiled. “See anything that stands out?”

 

“Yeah,” she said. “$1000 was withdrawn every month.”

 

“Now look at the husband’s bank statement.”

 

She nodded at the reveal. “$1000 deposited into his account every month.”

 

“Now, that might not mean anything on its own, but it got me thinking. So I took a closer look at the husband. They were pulling in over 15k a month, but everything was in his name."

 

"Kept a tight rein on the money."

 

"For good reason," Frost said. "This was his 2nd marriage. His first wife took him to the cleaners. Got this one to sign a pre-nup."

 

Jane whistled. "He wasn't taking any chances. They get divorced, she gets nothing."

 

"I don't know if she was thinking about it," he continued, "but she had reason to - travel bills show he was probably having an affair."

 

She scanned the pages until she found the relevant information. "He booked two trips at a time. One for business, one for pleasure?"

 

He nodded. "Travel docs show he only ever went for pleasure."

 

"So, he told the wife there was some kind of conference in Phoenix and went to Hawaii instead," she hypothesised.

 

"That's what I'm guessing. Never paid for the mistress' ticket though, so she'll be hard to track down."

 

"Pennsylvania cops can cross-reference the passenger list of all the trips he took. Won't take much to see what other name stands out."

 

"Wait. Pennsylvania cops?"

 

"Yeah. I told you it was a favour for a friend."

 

"Well, yeah, but we got leads."

 

"They've got leads," she corrected. She could tell he had the bit between his teeth and was raring to go. She smiled at his enthusiasm. “You did some good work here. There’ll be other chances at glory.” As if summoned by the words, her hip buzzed and she looked down at her phone. “Maybe you’ll get your chance now.” She swiped her thumb across the screen and said, “Rizzoli.”

 

…..

  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

…..

 

She broke two traffic laws in her attempt to get home before 7, and she pushed aside the voice in her head that asked her why. Instead, she heated up day-old pizza and cracked open a beer while she waited for Maura to call. Setting the number at 5 seconds, she wagered the over/under on how quickly the Skype chime would ring after the clock hit 7. Betting under, she won nothing but satisfaction when the icon alerted her 3 seconds past the hour.

 

“Hey,” Jane said, beginning the conversation with a smile.

 

“Hello.”

 

Leaning closer to the screen, Jane remarked, “Is it just me, or are you dressed even fancier than the last time we spoke?”

 

“I have a dinner to go to this evening. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to cut our conversation short.”

 

“Oh,” she replied, surprised at how quickly her mood changed. “That’s okay. You can call me tomorrow night. I wouldn’t want to keep you from whatever.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Maura said. “It’s work-related. The department directors get together twice a year. Officially, it’s to discuss techniques and budgets.”

 

“Unofficially, it’s to get drunk.”

 

Maura offered a small shrug. “I wouldn’t know; I generally don’t stay long enough to find out.”

 

Feeling better about the situation, Jane smirked, “Not the drinking kind of girl?”

 

“Not the ‘social kind of girl’,” Maura replied. “I don’t do well with people.”

 

“So you’ve said. But you seem to do well with me.”

 

Smiling, Maura said, “If only the room was full of you.” She frowned, seemingly struggling with the syntax of her words.

 

Jane laughed out loud. “Sweetheart, that room wouldn’t be ready for more than one me.”

 

“You _are_ one of a kind, Detective.” Emboldened by their banter, Maura asked, "How was _your_ dinner? With your family?"

 

"Oooh, your first stab at small talk."

 

"If you would rather I-"

 

"No, small talk all you want," Jane grinned. "Slowly, slowly she emerges," she said, miming a pulling motion with her hands. She waited for the blushing smile before shrugging, "Same as every other Sunday. Only the score of the football game changes."

 

"You have dinner with your family every Sunday? That sounds nice."

 

"Yeah, surrounded by two brothers who can't take things seriously, and a pop who can't lighten up. It's swell." Jane's voice was full of false cheer.

 

"Your mother...?"

 

"Ma? She's great." This time, her voice was warm and sincere. "Holds the family together. Way too interested in finding me a man, but other than that, I wouldn't have it any other way. Don't ever tell her I said that."

 

Maura shook her head in amusement. Her tone shifted slightly as she asked, "And has she had any luck? Finding you a man, I mean?"

 

Raising an eyebrow, Jane said, "That's pretty direct, Dr. Isles." She brushed aside Maura's apology before the blonde had a chance to make it. "I bet she's having a harder time than your mom. I mean, look at you." An odd shadow cast over Maura's expression, and Jane mentally kicked herself. "I'm sorry, I don't think before I open my mouth. I don't even know-"

 

"It's fine," Maura assured her. "Really, it's fine. As with most parental relationships, it's complicated."

 

"'Parental relationships'," Jane repeated with a wrinkle of her nose. "I take it your mother isn't going to be grabbing your ear any time soon."

 

The image brought a smirk to Maura's face. "No, not likely. She's not a very tactile person."

 

"Mmmm. Well, if you ever meet mine, cover your cheeks." She reached up and pinched hers while mimicking a voice she knew all too well. "You're just so pretty! Isn't she pretty, Janie?" She heard the nickname come out of her mouth and glowered at Maura. “You are to never repeat that name.” The laughter that sounded from her laptop speakers made the heat rush to her face. “Anyway. How was Harrisburg?”

 

Maura’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but she answered the question. “As expected. There wasn’t anything more than what was in the report.”

 

“Well, I found something that wasn’t in the report.” Jane practically bounced in her seat. “Interested?”

 

“Really?” Maura’s eyes widened. “Yes!”

 

“Actually, it was my partner that found it. Frost has a talent for digging, if by ‘digging’ you mean using his computer to find things.”

 

“I’m sorry. ‘Frost’? Is everything all right with Detective Korsak?”

 

It took her a moment to realize it must have sounded. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. He’s fine. I just got a new partner today.” She could see Maura waiting for more, and she quietly relented. “After the Hoyt thing, you know…” her voice trailed off.

 

“And how is the new partner?”

 

She smiled in gratitude, aware she was being let off the hook. “He’s good. I mean, he’s great with computers. Can’t stand the sight of a dead body, though. Not sure how that’s going to work.”

 

“Oh, that _is_ unfortunate,” Maura agreed.

 

“S’okay. Some of the guys on the scene tried to give him a hard time, but I had his back.”

 

“‘Had his back’.”

 

“Yeah, you know, no matter what happens, I’ll stand by him and support him.”

 

“Oh, I see. Because normally someone can be ambushed from the back, you’re saying you’ll stand watch and protect him.”

 

“Something like that, yeah.”

 

Maura seemed pleased to have understood this colloquialism. “If it means anything, tell him it will get better the more he does it.”

 

“So it’s like immersion therapy?” Jane guessed.

 

Maura smiled. “Yes, that’s exactly what it is. The more he’s exposed to it, the less it will bother him.”

 

“That’s what I am for you,” Jane announced, pointing her finger for emphasis.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“I’m your immersion therapy. You’re not comfortable around live people. I’m going to help you with that.” She winked and grinned at her conclusion.

 

Maura slowly shook her head. “If you insist,” she said with a smile. “Now, what did your partner find?”

 

“Right. He looked into the husband’s financials and found a couple of things that raised some flags. I’ll e-mail them to you. In a nutshell, he had a secondary account we figure his wife didn’t know about, and he was having an affair that maybe she did. Know about, I mean.”

 

“Oh,” Maura replied. “I know the police only did a cursory investigation, but that wasn’t mentioned in the file.”

 

Jane shrugged. “I give them a pass. It looked like a basic vehicular death. When nothing suspicious was reported by the M.E, they had no reason to treat it as a homicide.”

 

“They will once I pass along your information.”

 

“Now all you have to do is figure out how she did it. How long will it take you to exhume the body?”

 

Maura’s mouth turned downward. “There’s nothing to exhume. The wife asked the medical examiner to sign off on the body so she could have him cremated.”

 

Jane groaned, covering her face. “Wait,” she said, snapping her fingers lightly. “Can’t you science geeks examine cremains?”

 

“Yes,” Maura agreed, “we ‘science geeks’ certainly can. But once the wife has spread the ashes throughout Fowler’s Hollow State Park, our chances decrease considerably.”

 

Narrowing her eyes, Jane said, “Was that sarcasm?”

 

Eyes widening with delight, Maura replied, “Yes, I think so!”

 

The women laughed, the warmth of the moment embracing them both.

 

“Does that mean there’s nothing you can do?” Jane asked.

 

“There’s nothing _I_ can do,” Maura corrected, “but who knows what the Harrisburg police can do once they have the information your partner found? Though it’s rare to convict without a body, it’s not entirely unknown to happen. If they can piece enough of it together, who knows?”

 

“Great pun, Maura.” When the blonde tilted her head in confusion, Jane said, “Piece it together. And the body’s been cremated. You know, not in one piece, so…”

 

Maura’s lips twitched. “I see.”

 

“I’ll work on my humour while you’re at dinner. What time do you have to go, anyway?” Jane asked.

 

“Drinks are at 8. Dinner at 8:30.”

 

Even through the small screen, she could see Maura’s discomfort. “You’re really not looking forward to this, are you?”

 

Maura sighed, and Jane sensed she was struggling to put it into words. “It’s just…a reminder that I don’t ever quite fit in.”

 

“Ok,” she said with a firmness in her voice, “stop right there. If those assholes don’t see what a credit you are to the department, and what a great person you are, screw them.” She remembered the woman’s penchant for taking things literally, and quickly added, “Figure of speech, Maura.” She waited to see a smile before continuing, “I mean it. Bunch of dick-waving assholes. I hate the Feds. Should I come down there and crack some skulls? I have two younger brothers, so I know all about keeping overgrown boys in line.”

 

“As much as I love the idea of showing up to this dinner with you, I think a 7 hour drive makes it out of the question. Perhaps next time.”

 

The idea of there being a next time sent interesting messages throughout her body. Maintaining her stoic facade, she simply nodded. “Okay, next time.”

 

“I really should go,” Maura said, though she made no move to close their connection.

 

“Yeah, I guess you should. The quicker you show up, the sooner you can leave.”

 

“That’s a wonderful way to think about it.”

 

She could tell Maura still didn’t have her heart in it. “You’re going to call tomorrow night and tell me all about it.”

 

The idea seemed to brighten her mood, because she smiled and said, “I will.”

 

“And make sure you tell everyone I’m a cop. If they treat you bad, between the both of us, we could get rid of someone and no one would ever find out.”

 

“Not sure that’s something to advertise at a dinner full of federal agents, but it’s the thought that counts.”

 

“Damn right,” she said. “Go on. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

 

Maura sighed and made a face. “Okay. But I’ll have you know I’m going under protest.”

 

“You’re also going under an amazing blue dress,” Jane remarked. “You might not fit in, but you’re definitely going to stand out. In a good way.”

 

Touching her pink cheeks, Maura beamed, “Good night, Jane.”

 

“‘Night, Maura. Knock ‘em dead.” She paused. “Figuratively!”

 

…..

 

“And how are we doing this month, Jane?”

 

She narrowed her eyes at the slight man and shifted in her seat. She’d been so caught up in her case, in Maura’s case, in Maura, that she’d almost forgotten her therapist appointment. It wasn’t until Cavanaugh asked her why she was still at work that she realized the day. Angry with herself, and angry at the fact that her boss knew her therapy schedule, Jane sat in the padded chair, arms folded, face dark.

 

“Same as we were last month, Dr. Tadic,” she retorted, hating that he called her by name.

 

He either didn’t notice her irritation or chose to ignore it, because he cheerfully replied, “I certainly hope that’s not the case! We want to see steady improvement with each passing month, don’t we?”

 

His sing-song voice grated and set her teeth on edge. “Yes, doctor.”

 

“Good! So tell me one thing that’s changed since we last met.”

 

“The Pats blew out the Browns.” When his expression didn’t change, she said, “Football?”

 

“Ah,” he replied, clearly unimpressed. “Anything else? How have you changed personally? You were getting a new partner this month? How has that been for you?”

 

She shrugged. “Fine. We haven’t really had a chance to work much, but he helped me with a case I was looking at for...” _What was Maura, exactly?_ she wondered. There didn't seem to be a label that fit - or one she wanted to use with Tadic - so she said, "someone outside BPD."

 

“Oh?”

 

“Maura Isles," she clarified. "A medical examiner for the Feds.” A grin spread across her face, despite her best efforts to hide it. “I asked her to look at a case for me, and I returned the favour by looking at one of hers.”

 

“That’s nice,” he said, “particularly when you have a history of, shall we say ‘distrust’, when it comes to the Bureau.”

 

“This is different. She works for them, but she’s not really one of them.”

 

“Oh?” he asked. “How so?”

 

Shrugging again, she said, “I don’t know. She doesn’t want to have a pissing contest with me for starters. We work well together. We share ideas. A few laughs.”

 

“Sounds like you might have made a friend.”

 

She felt the heat stain her cheeks. “Yeah, well, it’s hard in my line of work, so I take them where I get them.”

 

“Maura Isles,” the doctor repeated. “She worked on the Charles Hoyt case, didn’t she?”

 

If there was one thing she learned about the doctor in her 10 months of therapy, it was the fact that he never seemed to ask a question he didn’t already know the answer to. She wondered why he hadn’t chosen law instead. “Yes,” she said. “Her discovery of his fingerprint broke the case.”

 

“Interesting. And have you two talked about it?”

 

"Talked about what?" She wasn't going to make it easy for him.

 

He smiled at her evasiveness. "The Charles Hoyt case. Does it come up in conversation?"

 

"Why would it?"

 

"You both worked on it, and it was extremely high-profile. Both of you being in law enforcement, I would think it might be discussed."

 

"It hasn't."

 

Peering across the desk, he asked, "Is that by choice or just chance?"

 

She stared right back. "Why can't it be by consideration? You know, maybe she's nice enough not to bring it up. Doesn't really make for small talk, does it? Besides, I have you to talk to about...those things. And I'd like to have one relationship where I didn't have to deal with these." She held up her hands.

 

"She most likely knows about them."

 

"Probably, but she's the first person I've met since the incident who doesn't define me by them."

 

"Is that what you think people are doing? Or is that something you might be doing to yourself?"

 

"Almost a year of therapy and I never seem to get answers from you. Just more questions."

 

"Perhaps that's because you need to find the answers for yourself."

 

There it was, in a nutshell; the reason she hated these sessions. She dealt with facts and concrete cases, not guru phrases she swore her mother had embroidered and framed on her wall. With a smile that fooled no one, she said, "That's definitely worth thinking about."

 

He folded his glasses and placed them carefully on his desk. "Here's something else to think about: you've been coming to me for over 10 months, which is approximately twice as long as most of your colleagues. Granted, different situations often come with different obstacles and no two cases are the same. But perhaps it's time to ask yourself if _you're_ not the biggest obstacle to your own recovery." When nothing was forthcoming from Jane, he sighed. "I understand you don’t want to talk to your family about this. They're too close. Colleagues are out of the question, because it's hard to separate your professional life from your personal life. And, you certainly don't want to talk to me." He punctuated this with a smile. "Maybe you can talk to Dr. Isles."

 

"She's not that kind of doctor."

 

Tadic shrugged. "No, but perhaps she can be that kind of friend."

 

.....

 

The appointments were always scheduled later in the day to avoid Jane having to go back to work with the weight of the sessions on her shoulders. So, with stiff hands clenched around the steering wheel, she pointed her car in the direction of home. Normally one to stubbornly push aside anything that happened in therapy, she was surprised to find her mind drifting back to the session, and she faced it with a mixture of guilt and trepidation. As much as she hated therapy, she knew that considering it a waste of her time, she was wasting the doctor's time, too. Every effort he attempted, she blocked, and it only made her recovery longer. She wasn't doing anyone any favours. How many cops were waiting in line while she avoided getting her shit together?

  
  


Then there was Maura. Of course, the first time she talked about anything other than family and work, Tadic caught it immediately. Why would he think that she’d be comfortable opening up to Maura? What did she say that gave him that impression? Since her appointments were only once a month, maybe she should have clarified how new the friendship was. Maybe he assumed they’d known each other for several weeks, instead of having only just met. But even then, wouldn’t it still be too early to start spilling her emotions everywhere? Her eyes narrowed as she turned onto the street in front of her apartment. _I hate doctors._

 

She pulled into her parking spot, turned off the car and sat back in the seat. Gazing out the window, she watched the clouds roll in, a precursor to the winter that was just around the corner, and her mind kept returning to one question. _What did I say that made him think that?_ She slowly clenched and unclenched her hands. _What do you see when you think about Maura?_ Maura. She tried to think of her in cop terms. _Beautiful. Really beautiful. Like, super beautiful._ She grinned at herself. But there were other things, too.   _Intelligent. Thoughtful._

 

Jane thought back to the last real relationship she had. Three years ago. Finished shortly after she had been promoted to Homicide. The workload and the danger had played a huge part. _At least she didn’t have to go through the Hoyt thing._ Ultimately, though, her own failure to open up was the nail in the coffin. So, in that case, why did she feel like such a huge weight was lifted every time she spoke to Maura? She knew part of it was not having to pretend around her, but when she thought about how honest Maura had been, how willingly she’d revealed her own imperfections, Jane realized that, for the first time in a long time, she wanted to do the same. She wanted the dinners and the movies and the laughter, but she also wanted the lazy Sundays and the 3am conversations, the evenings full of empty beer bottles  & wine glasses, the moments that always, inevitably, led to sharing your secrets with each other. Her daydream was cut short by the nearby whine of a racing bike and, shaking her head, she looked down at her hands.

 

Through the entire ordeal with Hoyt, she never cried. Not once. It was a carryover from that stern voice she still heard in her head: _Janie_ , her father told her, _there ain’t nothin’ that cryin’s gonna fix._ So when she fell climbing the tree in 5th grade? Just a trembling bottom lip. The elbow that broke her nose in the 11th grade basketball tournament? Only a glower. Catching her girlfriend making out with the homecoming king at the prom, because she didn’t want to be a ‘dyke’? A new hole in the school’s gymnasium wall. Pinned to the floor by a madman’s scalpels? The scars on her hands, angry and red, stared back at her, and she closed her eyes. She didn’t give him the satisfaction, couldn’t let him see her emotionally vulnerable, even as he had her physically defeated. The words reworked themselves in her mind… She had never let anyone see her emotionally vulnerable… She had never let anyone see _her_...

 

Squeezing tightly, she steeled her mind for images of Hoyt to come flashing back. They always did. But not this time. This time, it wasn’t Hoyt she saw. It was Maura. As quickly as it came, the fear faded away. And in the car, quiet and alone, for the first time in her memory, she started to cry.

 

…..

 

“Hello,” Maura said, but her smile immediately dropped. “What’s wrong?”

 

After sitting in the car for what seemed like an eternity, Jane had dragged herself into her apartment and into her shower, tears mixing with the hot cascade that sprayed over her weary body. But even as she dried off, got dressed, and half-heartedly ate dinner, she couldn’t seem to stop the tears. Finally given the chance after 30 years, her body was expelling every last drop of pent up emotion. She sniffled and gave a small chuckle. “Just, you know, crying.”

 

“I can see that. I… is there anything I can do?”

 

Jane shook her head. “No. I’m okay. Really. It was… it was just my therapy day.”

 

“Oh. Department-appointed psychiatrist?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Maura appeared to struggle with her next words, before saying, “Ten months is an unusual length.”

 

Her chuckle grew into a full laugh and she wiped her nose with a Kleenex. “You may not know this about me, but I’m stubborn and pushy.”

 

“Yes, that is a complete surprise.”

 

Jane’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Your sarcasm is getting way better.”

 

“Thank you.” There was a pause, then Maura said, “Is there… I mean, if you wanted to talk about it… I’m not qualified to give a professional diagnosis, but… I’m not saying any of this correctly.”

 

“It’s okay,” Jane assured her. “I know what you mean. And I appreciate it.”

 

She was on the precipice, caught between her familiar avoidance and a desire to open up when Maura asked, “Have your hands been bothering you?” Jane glanced down, then back to the screen. “I just mean, the temperature has dropped over the past two days. I’ve read numerous studies about the correlation between the cold and muscle fatigue."

 

"It's funny, I was just thinking about that. Winter's right around the corner."

 

"How's your physical therapy going? Are you being prescribed anything?"

 

Jane snorted. "Physical therapy? That ran out months ago. Guess it’s more important to make sure I don’t go postal." Maura shook her head. "Joke’s on them- I don’t think I could get more than four shots off before my hands cramped.” She held them up and made painful fists. She waited for a sign of revulsion from the doctor; it never came. "I forgot you slice open dead people all day."

 

Maura tilted her head. "I don't think I understand."

 

"These." She flipped her palms front to back. "Most people are shocked by them."

 

"I would think people would see the woman who bears them, and discover they're carried with strength."

 

Jane teetered on the edge, knowing there was no going back if she took that step. With a deep breath, she admitted, "I don't always feel strong." The blonde's smile enveloped her with compassion and warmth.

 

"You don't always have to feel strong, Jane. I bet you have an amazing support group if you only reached out and asked. Your family. Your colleagues. Me.”

 

She reached up and wiped an errant tear. “This is crazy.” Now familiar with the questioning head tilt, Jane laughed weakly. “You. Me. Whatever this is.” She gestured between the two of them.

 

“Would it help to know I’ve wondered, too?” Jane raised an eyebrow at the confession. “How could I not? Jane, I can count on one hand the number of people I would turn to if I really needed someone. Yet, here I am, calling you every single night for almost a week! And really enjoying it.”

 

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Jane drawled.

 

“But I am,” Maura said. “You can’t imagine how hard it is for me to… talk like… like a normal person. I end up saying the wrong things. Frequently.”

 

“You haven’t said a single wrong thing to me. I don’t care about the rest. And neither should you.”

 

“You know, we haven’t spoken about work even once. That’s a big step for me.” Maura smiled at the realization.

 

“And I showed you my hands.” She looked down. “That’s a huge step for me,” she whispered. “Anyway, that’s probably all I can manage tonight. Let’s talk about something else. How was your dinner? How many skulls do I have to crack?”

 

Maura blinked, then realized the change of topic. “It was fine. I took your advice. I made sure to get there as early as possible so I could leave before anyone got drunk enough to grope me.”

 

Jane’s eyes widened. “They’ve done that??”

 

“Once or twice, yes.”

 

“That’s it!” She slammed her hand down on the desk, shaking the laptop. “I want names. I’m coming down there right now.” Her over-the-top outrage made Maura laugh.

 

“While I appreciate your chivalry, it won’t be necessary. I made sure to mingle with the appropriate people before discreetly slipping out the side door.”

 

“Hmmm, I guess that’s okay. But you’re not going alone next time, even if it is a 7-hour drive.” Her eyes flickered to the clock in the corner. “Speaking of time, I should probably go. It’s… it’s been a long day.”

 

“But you got through it.”

 

Jane nodded proudly. “Yes, yes I did. Buuuuut… I might need help getting through tomorrow. So you better call. Just in case.”

 

The ruse didn’t fool Maura, but she played along anyway. Her tone was serious, despite the sparkle in her eyes. “Just in case.”

 

…..

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

  
  


…..

 

As it often happens, even the best laid plans get interrupted, and the Skype call promised for the next night never happened. A serial killer made his presence known along the southern east coast, and Maura was called in as part of the task force.

 

_Could be worse_ , Jane texted after receiving Maura’s apologetic message. _They could’ve sent you to New York._ Her emoticon was making a crudely nauseated face.

 

_New York’s lovely!_ Maura protested. _Why would you… I see. That’s Red Sox humour, isn’t it?_

_That’s my girl._ The phrasing only occurred to Jane after she had hit ‘send’, but Maura didn’t seem to notice or mind.

 

_We’ll go one day. To New York. I’ll make you love it._

_Only you could,_ Jane replied. _If you need anything, I may have some experience with serial killers._ She added a smiley at the end to lighten the text. _Or you know, whatever. I’ll be here._

 

…..

 

It was two days before she heard from Maura again. The nightly news gave her a vague idea of the case, and it took everything in Jane not to turn the channel - six victims all along Interstate 94, strangled, raped, then dumped. The first one was found just outside Detroit, the latest one 10 minutes from Minneapolis. Maura was in one of those cities. Or somewhere in between. Jane had no idea. The few clues the press were allowed gave no real indication that the FBI had anything beyond suspecting it was a long-haul driver. Jane knew from experience that they likely had much, much more. She also knew the safest bet was to not give out specifics, but Jane wanted some idea of what Maura was doing, and the bureau’s evasiveness to the media wasn’t helping. She was about to call it a night when her cell phone buzzed.

 

_I know there’s a time difference, but do you mind if I call?_

 

Jane pulled her laptop to the coffee table and cracked open the lid. _Two seconds for the computer to start,_ she quickly texted. The screen flickered on and she double-clicked the small blue icon. It didn’t take long for the familiar bubbly tone to notify her of the call. Jane willed her heart to slow down.

 

“Hey,” she said instantly. “Oh, wow, you look tired.”

 

“I’d complain about your greeting, but…”

 

“You don’t have the energy,” Jane finished with a smile.

 

The corner of Maura’s mouth turned up. “No, I don’t think I do.”

 

The blonde had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and Jane couldn’t remember ever seeing her without makeup. “You also look very casual. And…” she leaned forward and squinted. “Are you in your bedroom?”

 

Maura stifled a yawn. “I’m in a bedroom, yes. Not mine. I mean, it’s mine here. In Minneapolis. But not my own. My personal… forget it.”

 

Jane burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. You’re just fucking adorable when you’re exhausted.” She rested her chin on her hand, shaking her head in amusement. “Hey! You said no business in the bedroom. I must be rubbing off on you.”

 

Propping the pillows against the headboard, Maura sank into the comfort. “No, there won’t be any business in this room tonight.” Her eyes closed and her brows furrowed. “Does that sound like a double entendre?”

 

“Yeah, it kinda does.”

 

“Mmmmm.”

 

“So if there’s no business in the pleasure room,” she smiled, pleased at her phrasing, “what did you want to talk about? Unless… you had pleasure in mind?”

 

Maura’s eyes snapped open, but seeing the devilishness in Jane’s eyes, she sleepily chuckled, “Maybe another time.”

 

“Case has really taken a lot out of you, huh?”

 

“It’s just very detail-oriented,” Maura told her. “And going over other people’s work often causes hurt feelings, and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

 

Jane shrugged. “Just tell them it’s not personal, it’s just business.”

 

“Did that work for you?”

 

She was reminded of how stubborn she had been when the Feds came into the Hoyt case. Her reputation must have made the rounds if Maura was slyly reminding her. “Ha ha, point made. But I gotta say, if I’d been dealing with you, instead of Hulk Hathaway, I might have taken it better.”

 

“Do you mean Philip Hathaway?”

 

Jane puffed out her chest and squared her shoulders. “‘No offense, sweetheart, but we’ll take it from here.’”

 

“He didn’t say that, did he?” Maura asked, astounded.

 

Jane looked off to the side as if trying to recall the situation. “He might have called me ‘babe’ or ‘doll’ instead.”

 

Maura was not impressed. “Well, I hope you know, at least from my end, it wasn’t personal.”

 

“No, I know. You were taking orders from the suits just as much as I was. Besides, I never got a chance to tell you - you did a great job on the case. The Hoyt one, I mean.” The name scratched its way past her lips. “Without that fingerprint… who knows if we would have caught him.”

 

“You caught him, Jane,” Maura said. “The fingerprint only confirmed it. You suspected him through the connection with the Emory School of Medicine. You did really good work, Detective.”

 

Jane blushed at the praise and grinned at the moniker. “That name doesn't so bad when you're tired. Anyway... how much longer do you think you'll be?"

 

Maura adjusted her pillows and tucked her arm under her head. "Depends on what we find. Could be a day, or it could be a month. The good news is, the medical examiner for the Minnesota bureau is very competent. I enjoy working with him."

 

"Oh really?" Jane's voice betrayed no emotion.

 

Maura shuffled deeper into the pillows. "Mm-hmm. Tall, dark, very attractive. Alluring dimple right here," she gestured to her chin.

 

"That's nice."

 

"I think he's Italian."

 

Jane's eyes narrowed. "Are you... _teasing_ me?"

 

The doctor's laughter was thick with sleep. "That's to repay you for making me talk business in the pleasure room."

 

"I promise next time it will be nothing but pleasure."

 

"I bet you say that to all the girls, Detective." Jane's mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. Though she couldn't see the reaction, Maura chuckled again, then she said, "I've grown accustomed to your face."

 

Jane blinked. "Ooookay."

 

"It's a quote," Maura informed her. "'My Fair Lady'. Well, not an exact quote, but it seemed fitting."

 

Her voice soft with feeling, Jane replied, "I've grown accustomed to your face, too." The blonde didn't reply, having drifted off to sleep. Jane watched her for a while, wondering how many people had the opportunity to see this very professional woman in such an unguarded moment. Quiet minutes passed before Jane finally whispered, "G'night, Maura."

 

.....

  
  


A hand blindly reached out to grab the phone that buzzed on her bedside table. Jane blinked the sleep from her eyes, and the words slowly came into focus.

 

_Sorry I fell asleep during our call. That was very rude of me._

 

Her thumbs stumbled across the screen. _Good morminf_

 

A moment passed. _You were still sleeping._

_Were?_

_Now I've compounded my rudeness by waking you up. I'm sorry. I'll call you later._

_Call me now. Phone._

 

It didn't have time to ring more than once before Jane answered. "The computer takes forever to get going."

 

"Rather like its owner?"

 

"Oh, ha. A joke at 7 in the morning." Her voice was thick and hoarse. "What time do you get up?"

 

"I try to be in my yoga room by 6:30, but the hour time difference has thrown me off a little. I was up at 5."

 

"Yoga, huh? I'm not really into bending myself like a pretzel at the best of times, never mind that early."

 

"You should try it," Maura said. "You have the perfect proportions for it."

 

Jane pushed herself into a sitting position. "And how would you know that? Unless my camera has a bigger lens than I thought, in which case, I apologize for the mess you've been seeing."

 

Maura's laugh tickled her ear. "You may be surprised at the things you can find online. Did you know the Boston Police Department records every graduation ceremony? You looked very serious accepting your pin."

 

"Awww," Jane groaned, "you did not watch my grad ceremony!" When there was no reply, she groaned again. "Creeper. And the reason I looked so serious was because I had to go to the bathroom. Those things take forever."

 

Maura chuckled. "In any event... I'm sorry I woke you."

 

"It's fine. Saved me from smashing my alarm clock. Did you sleep okay?"

 

"Yes," she replied. "In fact, I slept better than I have in days.”

 

“You looked pretty peaceful,” she agreed. “I watched you for about 5 minutes, then realized, that’s creepy!”

 

“When did I fall asleep?"

 

"Right after you told me you're accustomed to my face." Now it was Maura's turn to groan and Jane laughed. "Someone told me it's a quote."

 

"From 'My Fair Lady'. I'm mortified."

 

"Why? I like Audrey Hepburn. Ma's made me watch 'Roman Holiday' a million times."

 

"Should I ask what else I might have said? I have a tendency to lose my filter when I'm tired."

 

"I noticed," Jane replied, her voice serious.

 

"Oh, no."

 

"You were saying things about a pleasure room and-"

 

"Wait. That was you. You called the bedroom the 'pleasure room'."

 

"Did I?"

 

"Nice try, Detective."

 

"Mmmm," Jane pouted. "It sounds so much better when you're sleepy." A beep could be heard in the background. "That must be you."

 

"It's Dr. Boreno. I'm sorry, I've got to take this."

 

"Okay, but tell Dr. No there's only room in your life for one very attractive Italian in your life."

 

"What are you... Oh my god."

 

"Ha! It's all coming back to her now. Call me tonight," she told the mortified medical examiner. "Or you know, whenever."

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you were wondering why I bothered introducing Ian earlier in the story. :) And, of course, the fallout sets up events in the future.

  
  


…..

 

“What’s this?” Jane asked the bullpen when she saw the baked good on her desk.

 

“Shit, it has been a long time, hasn’t it, Rizzoli?” Crowe scoffed from the corner. “It’s a muffin.”

 

Jane looked at it again and made an exaggerated expression. “Ohhhh! That’s like a euphemism for this, right?” She gestured to her crotch. Picking it up, she examined it closely. “Did your wife make this, Crowe?”

 

“What? My wife ain’t no baker.”

 

She feigned disappointment. “That’s too bad. I like her muffin best.” Crowe bolted from his desk, but was held back by two other detectives. “Please,” she said, waving them away, “I’m dying to see what he’s got. I mean besides an overworked left hand and bad breath.” Her phone buzzed and she unclipped it from her belt. “Maybe that’s your wife now.” She glanced at the message.

 

_Can I call you? Skype, I mean._

 

Jane frowned and cut off any rebuttal by Crowe with a raised middle finger. “Don’t even bother.”

 

_Sure. 7 tonight?_

_No. Right now. If that’s all right._

 

Jane’s frown deepened. Lifting his head up from the pile of cold case files, Frost asked, “Everything okay?”

 

“I don’t know,” she answered. “You okay for the rest of the day? I’m gonna ask Cavanaugh if I can take a personal.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he assured her. “Anything I can do?”

 

“No, it’s good. Just some stuff I need to take care of.” She made her way towards the lieutenant’s office. “I’ll keep my phone on. If anything comes in, I’ll meet you there.”

 

“No problem.”

 

She quickly fired off a text.

 

_No place to do it here so I’m on my way home. Can you give me about 15 minutes?_

_I’ll be on when you get there._

_You’re scaring me, you know._

_Please be careful. I just need to talk to you._

 

If she broke two traffic laws the last time they had a Skype call, Jane hated to think how many she broke this time.

 

…..

 

She didn’t even bother kicking off her shoes before opening her laptop. Tapping her feet impatiently, she wondered what could have prompted such an unexpected series of texts. At last, the program opened and she clicked on the icon. The image that greeted her was the last thing she expected. Maura had clearly been crying.

 

“What happened?” Jane asked in alarm.

 

“Have you seen the news?”

 

“I don’t watch the news. Too depressing.” When she saw that her joke fell flat, she quickly added, “Why?”

 

“Turn on CNN,” she told her. “I’m sure it will come around again.”

 

Jane stretched for the remote and flipped through the channels until landing on the news network. "I don't-"

 

"Just wait for it." Maura's voice was flat and resigned.

 

It was across the scrolling ticker at the bottom of the screen.

 

_**INTERPOL fugitive tied to top FBI agent.** _

 

"I take it you're the 'top FBI agent'."

 

"Yes."

 

"So who's the 'fugitive'?"

 

"Ian Faulkner," she replied, wiping her nose. "Former love of my life," she chuckled without humour.

 

"Hold on," Jane said. "You're going to have to fill in some blanks for me."

 

With a shuddering breath, Maura began, "It’s hard to believe that I had a different life before taking the job with the FBI. I was in South Africa, volunteering with Médecins San Frontierès. Doctors Without Borders. I met Ian there.” Her voice was soft and wistful. “We were both young and very idealistic. But I was the only one who seemed to grow up."

 

"He still thought he could save the world," Jane guessed.

 

"Yes," she nodded. “It was very attractive for a long time. "

 

"It's why you loved him."

 

Maura nodded again. "But there comes a time when your idealism is at odds with your ethical code. Things we wanted to do could only be done..."

 

"If you did some things you didn't want to do," Jane finished.

 

"This was Ian's purpose; he found a cause that gave him worth. It wasn't mine. I had a career to think of."

 

She heard the guilt behind the words and shook her head adamantly. "You have nothing to feel sorry for."

 

Maura offered a thin but grateful smile. "Anyway, I returned to the United States to do my residency in Chicago. And when Ian came to visit, with all his stories of how he could help so many people if he only had the medicine, well, I gave it to him."

 

"Oh, Maura."

 

"I know. I know it was stupid. So, so stupid. I left Africa because I didn't want to get involved in the grey areas of what needed to be done, only to turn around and do it anyway. The change in geography didn't change the fact I was breaking the law."

 

Jane's heart dropped at her next thought. "You aren't still-"

 

"No!" Maura quickly said. "I haven't helped him in ages. I hadn't seen him in over 5 years until he showed up on my doorstep last week."

 

Jane jerked her head in the direction of her TV. "So what's that all about?"

 

Maura sighed and rubbed her forehead. “He’s been wanted by INTERPOL for the past 2 years. He’s getting help from a number of places.”

 

“And by ‘help’ you mean ‘illegal drugs’.”

 

“Pharmaceuticals,” she corrected. “But yes. He can be… very charming.”

 

“I bet.” Jane pressed her lips together firmly. “Still doesn’t explain why they’re connecting him to you. I mean, now. You said it’s been over for years.”

 

“He came into the country on an illegal passport,” Maura said, eyes downcast. “When they didn’t catch him at the airport, he thought he was free and clear.”

 

“But what really happened was, someone flagged him and notified the authorities.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And that’s how they tracked him back to you.” Jane nodded to herself as the pieces fell into place. “They were trying to find his supplier, and ended up following him right to you.”

 

Maura’s voice was shaky and low. “They've taken me off the case, Jane. The Minneapolis bureau is furious Washington would send me, and of course, Washington is denying they suspected anything. I’ve got a meeting with the Director tomorrow."

 

And with that, the penny dropped. The reason for the desperate call in the middle of the day. Jane shook her head and tried to give a reassuring smile. “They don’t have anything, Maura. It’s just a meeting between two people who have known each other for years. They’ll check to see what drugs you have access to, and realize nothing’s missing.”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied sadly. “It’s how it looks.” She looked down at her hands and they were both quiet for a long time. A curtain of blonde hair hid her face, and Jane wanted nothing more than to reach over and brush it back. “I’m going to lose my job over this.”

 

“What? No,” Jane protested, though she knew as much as anyone what appearances meant to government agencies. “Oh, Maura.” The doctor could only sniffle and nod. “Why didn’t you just call the authorities when he showed up? I mean, I get it - you were in love with him. But you said that was over.”

 

“It _is_ over.”

 

“Then why-”

 

“I had his back, Jane.”

 

She remembered explaining what that meant, and under any other circumstance, she would have been proud to see her influence. Running a hand through her hair, she asked, “So what happens now?”

 

Maura wiped her nose and sat up straight. “I go into the meeting. If I’m lucky, I’ll be given the opportunity to leave my job through a ‘mutual decision’. Worse case scenario, I get fired and can never work in law enforcement or the medical community ever again.”

 

“They won’t do that,” Jane shook her head confidently. “It’ll look bad. You said it yourself; they’re more interested in how things look.” The defeated sag in Maura’s shoulders made Jane’s heart ache. “Hey. Hey, you can’t get worked up about it until tomorrow, okay? Don’t let this get to you. Please.”

 

“It’s strange. I didn’t know who else to turn to. I’ve known you for two weeks, and yet you were the first person I thought to call. I don’t mean to burden you with my problems.”

 

“Stop,” Jane ordered. “Look at me.” She waited for Maura’s eyes to meet hers. “I’m glad you called me, okay? I want you to call me. Any time. For anything. Okay?” She nodded, but Jane was having none of it. “I want to hear you say it. Okay?”

 

The persistence brought a small smile to Maura’s face. “Okay.” With a weary sigh, she said, “I should go. I need to contact my employment representative. And probably a lawyer.”

 

Jane showed her understanding with a tilt of her head. “Okay. You want to call later?”

 

Taking in a deep breath, Maura replied, “No,” then quickly added, “I appreciate you being there, Jane. More than you know. But I need some time to figure out my options, decide where I go from here. I think I just need to decompress and face the day.”

 

Though she didn’t like the decision, she understood it. “If you’re sure.” Maura replied with a silent acknowledgement, and Jane gave one of her own. “But if you change your mind… and I’d better hear from you right after your meeting.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Promise me.”

 

She dabbed the last tears from her cheeks. “I promise.”

 

The connection ended and Jane stared at her own reflection, distorted in the laptop’s dark screen. Minutes passed in absolute silence as she weighed and measured the thoughts running through her mind. Satisfied with her conclusions, she picked up her cell phone and made two calls.

 

…..

  
  
  


The bathroom on the third floor of the federal building was cool and quiet, and she welcomed the moment to take one last look at herself in the mirror. She had debated on wearing something that would be deemed ‘business wear’, but in the end, she went with an understated yet arresting grey dress. She often found comfort in her clothes - they could often be her armour and her shield - and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to walk into that office with her head held high. The one concession she made was her shoes. She forgoed her usual 4 inch heels for a pair slightly more understated but, for all intents and purposes, she was going in as Chief Medical Examiner Maura Isles, regardless of how she walked out.

 

If she felt a sense of confidence, she wasn't sure she looked it. Her reflection stared back at her almost without recognition. The sleeplessness and the worry had manifested in dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t called Jane, at the time thinking she had no right to burden the detective with her issues. Now, with only tired resignation gazing back, she wished she’d heard the confident voice one more time before going into the meeting.

 

Detective Jane Rizzoli.

 

The first person she thought to call when she received the summons to the Director’s office. She didn’t know if it was a sad commentary on her lack of friends, or a startling testament to how quickly she allowed the woman into her life. Twelve days.

 

She wasn’t afraid to admit she was attracted to Jane. Beyond the complexities of what made people who they were, the simple fact of the matter was, the physical attraction was palpable. She never subscribed to love at first sight, but substitute ‘love’ with 'lust', and she had no problem believing it. The human race depended on it, and she was not immune to the chemicals between people, of either gender. She had had her fair share of liaisons between both; each a fulfillment of a basic need that was then cast aside.

 

But this was something more. There were people she had known for years who she connected with less. What was it about Jane? What was it about the persistent detective that she found so appealing? Maybe the differences between them, the things about Jane that were so opposite to her nature? She quickly dismissed the idea, if only because they were also similar in many ways; they were both guarded, driven, and steadfastly loyal. "I got his back." Despite the stressful situation, she found herself smiling at the memory of their conversation and that’s when the realization hit her.

 

She wanted Jane. Not just to scratch an itch, but in a way that meant dismantling walls and building trust. In their short time together, Jane had become the first thing in the morning and the last thing at night, and the desire to make that real and permanent nearly floored her.

 

The appointment chime sounded from her phone and she blinked as she was pulled back to the reality of the moment. She’d once heard the phrase ‘now or never’ and since the likelihood of turning her back on the consequences of her actions was nil, the former was her only option. With a final glance in the mirror, she pushed open the bathroom door and began the long lonely walk down the hall.

 

.....

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	9. Chapter 9

…..

  
  


If the meeting had a silver lining, it was the length: mercifully short. The Director had shown a measure of genuine sympathy for the situation, but in the end, he summarized his position with a very standard, “There’s nothing I can do.” As expected, they ‘agreed’ to a ‘mutual’ parting of ways, and just like that, Maura walked out of the office, uncertain and unemployed. Her outward appearance was nothing short of iron in its display, even when the secretary gave her a sympathetic smile on her way out the door, even when it closed softly behind her, even as she looked down at the carpet and took in a long deep breath. The crack in her façade only appeared when she glanced up and saw the woman at the end of the hall.

 

“Jane?” she whispered.

 

The brunette pushed away from the wall and slowly approached. With her hands clasped tightly together, she looked nervous and shy. “Hey. I know this is weird, but I thought maybe you’d need someone and you told me you didn’t really have anyone so I thought ‘What the hell?’ you know?” she rambled. “So I-”

 

Maura’s resolve collapsed and Jane was immediately at her side. She felt strong arms surround her, and she clung on tightly, listening to words of encouragement being murmured softly into her ear. She sobbed openly, the sound muffled by the comforting shoulder, and a protective warmth seeped into her bones as she drew all the strength Jane willingly gave. Her sobs dissipated into soft hiccups and, with a touch, Jane guided her into the very same bathroom she’d been in not 30 minutes ago.

 

Wordlessly, Jane reached into her pocket and offered a pack of tissues. Maura took it and turned to the mirror.

 

"I'm a mess," were the first words she said, seeing her distraught face and red-rimmed eyes.

 

"You're gorgeous," Jane corrected.

 

There was such a genuine matter-of-factness to the statement that Maura almost started crying again. "Thank you," she said simply. She dabbed under her eyes and wiped her nose, but gave up the pretense of saving her makeup. Glancing at Jane's reflection, she said, "I didn't want us to meet this way."

 

"I know. I should've called but I didn't even know I was coming until I was on the plane. Sometimes I don't think."

 

Maura turned. "That's not what I meant. I'm glad you're here. I can't begin to tell you how it makes me feel." She reached out for Jane's hand, but it was reflexively pulled away.

 

"Sorry," Jane said immediately. She closed her eyes and sighed. "You'd think I'd be over it."

 

"Don't ever apologize about what you went through," Maura told her. "Or what you continue to go through."

 

Jane opened her eyes and looked at her with gratitude. "Forget about me right now. I'm here to help you."

 

She touched Jane's arm, mindful not to stray too far down. "You've already done that just by being here."

 

"Well, since my plane doesn't leave until tomorrow morning, if you need anything else, I've got the time. I vacuum when I'm stressed. You have any rugs in your house?"

 

Maura found a reason to smile. "No, but I have a bottle of wine I'd like to finish."

 

"Then that's what we'll do. I mean, what you'll do. I can pick up some beer on the way to your place."

 

"How do you know I don't have beer?"

 

Jane raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"

 

"Well, no..."

 

"Okay, so we'll stop somewhere." Jane placed a hand on Maura's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Is there anything else _you_ need?"

 

She looked up to a gaze full of care and compassion, and marveled at how both of them got here. "No," she replied, struck by the truth. "I can't think of a single thing."

 

.....

 

Beyond a stop at a liquor store, the ride to Maura’s was quiet. Every so often, the GPS would give Jane directions, which allowed Maura to gaze out the window, uninterrupted. Chin in hand, she looked at all the things she'd driven by countless times in the past. The house with the willow tree in the front yard. The small market where she bought Asian pears. She expected the usual sense of familiarity; instead, it all looked foreign. For three years, she’d lived here, in this city, down this street and for the first time since her first day, she felt like a stranger.

 

“What am I going to do, Jane?” she asked, her plaintive voice breaking the silence.

 

“Please,” Jane replied assuredly, “what aren’t you going to do? With your qualifications, you’ll be beating them off with a stick.” She slowed the car as they approached a red light. Glancing at Maura, she continued, “The youngest med student in BCU history. Top of her class. Don’t look at me like that. You’re not the only one who can Google. And the BPD aren’t the only ones who record their graduations. I will forever thank BCU for helping me even the score on that one.”

 

“You looked me up on the internet?”

 

“Only after you obviously did the same to me!” Jane smiled, then asked, “What did the director say?”

 

Her shoulders sagged. “He said what I predicted- ‘a mutual parting of ways would be beneficial to both parties at this point’.”

 

“So you’re not exactly fired.”

 

“Not exactly, no.”

 

“Then I’m right,” Jane reiterated “Once you put your name out there, you’ll be flooded with offers.”

 

She sighed and stared off into the distance. “I don’t know if I’m ready for change. I just seemed to have gotten settled here. Now it feels new again.”

 

Taking a left, Jane pulled the car into the driveway and said, “You never know what’s around the corner. Speaking of which… is this your house? Man, I’m in the wrong business!”

 

Maura reached for the door. “It appears I’m not even in the business any more.”

 

…..

 

The house was cool but inviting as they stepped inside. Maura locked the door behind her while Jane quickly scanned the interior.

 

“This is really nice.”

 

“Thank you,” she replied, placing her keys in a nearby bowl. She removed her heels and gratefully leaned against the door. “I know it’s incredibly rude of me, but would you mind if I went to lie down for a while? There’s food in the refrigerator and you’re free to turn on the TV. I’m just feeling a bit-”

 

“You don’t have to explain,” Jane said “I get it. I do. Go do whatever it is you have to do. I’ll still be here.”

 

Maura’s bottom lip trembled at the words. “Thank you. For everything.”

 

Stepping forward, Jane reached out and tentatively took hold of Maura’s hand, the significance not lost on either woman. Having already felt Jane's arms around her once, she sought them out again, leaning slightly into her. They stood like this for an eternity, swaying closer and closer, breaths warm and mingling until their lips brushed across each other. They both pulled back in surprise and the moment lingered so long that Maura was almost ready to voice her encouragement when Jane leaned down and kissed her. Hard. She slipped her hands out of Jane's and clutched two fistfuls of the detective's shirt, pulling herself flush against the tall lean frame. Jane moaned at the blatant desire and wrapped her arms around Maura, holding her tightly. Warm mouths nipped at each other until their tongues met and both women sighed at the contact. It was the touch of Maura's hand cupping Jane's breast that brought them back to reality.

 

Maura took two steps back and brought her hand to her mouth. Jane ran one through her hair. "I'm not sorry," Jane said, "but I probably shouldn't have done that."

 

The feel of Jane's lips still tingled on hers and Maura shook her head. "No." She caught her breath and tried again. "What I mean is, no, don't apologize. I clearly wanted that as much as you. Clearly." She allowed herself a small chuckle at the understatement. "I'm just not certain this is a good time. My world has been turned upside down, and I want to make sure I'm doing this for the right reasons." She saw the look on Jane's face, and quickly reached for her hand. "I don't want everything that happened to me today to get in the way of us or to define our relationship. Do you understand?"

 

Jane looked down at their interlocked fingers. "Yeah, I do. But I've got to tell you, after that kiss, I can't think of a wrong reason."

 

"If it means anything, neither can I." They smiled at each other, soft and shy. "I just need some time."

 

Jane stepped forward and placed a chaste kiss on Maura's forehead. "I’m not going anywhere.” She looked around the large living room. “Except right over there, in front of your incredibly huge TV. And you’re going to have a nap. Okay?”

 

A wave of relief washed over Maura, and she smiled again. Reluctantly pulling away, she started for the stairs. “Okay. Just watch out for Bass.”

 

“The who what now?”

 

“Bass. He’s my African spurred tortoise.”

 

Jane did a double-take. “Did you just say a tortoise?”

 

…..

  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

…..

 

“Oh, come on!” Jane whined, hands gesturing at the television. “He was out!” Her body, stiff with frustration, collapsed in a resigned heap against the couch.

 

“Do you find that works?”

 

Jane whipped her head around and saw Maura coming down the stairs. “Hey,” she said with a smile. “Wait. Does what work?”

 

“Shouting and gesticulating at the television.” She sat next to Jane and looked at the screen. “Does it ever change the outcome?”

 

“No,” Jane pouted. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

 

Maura shook her head. “No. I’ve been up for a while.”

 

“Oh?”

 

She rested her hand on Jane’s leg. “I was just doing some thinking, that’s all. I’m going to wake up tomorrow and not have a job to go to for the first time in over a decade. Decisions need to be made.”

 

Jane turned in her seat but made sure Maura’s hand stayed where it was. “And what kind of decisions are we talking about?”

 

“The obvious ones. Employment. Where I’m going to live. What I want to do.”

 

“So nothing important.” Jane tempered the comment with a knowing smile.

 

Maura mirrored the expression. “No, nothing important at all.”

 

Jane delicately began tracing the lines in Maura’s hand. “You know, I found out something interesting when I was checking you out on Google. You’re from Boston. Born and raised. The Isles Foundation is named after you, which should have been my first clue.”

 

“It’s named after my father, actually,” Maura corrected.

 

“Anyway… the Chief Medical Examiner for Massachusetts is retiring in three months.”

 

“You mentioned the assistant was working on your case. Has the governor not appointed a replacement?”

 

“Nope. And I just thought…”

 

“You thought it seemed like the most logical choice.”

 

“Isn’t it? I mean, you know the city, you know the job, and hey, you know me.” Maura was quiet for so long that Jane finally coughed awkwardly. "I mean, that's just one idea. I'm sure you'll have a lot of offers."

 

"Every decision I've ever made, I felt like I was doing it to get away from something.” She looked off to the side, wistful memories coming to the fore. “I chose to go to boarding school to get away from what I felt was a neglectful home. I chose medical school, to get away from what my parents preferred me to do. Africa was to get away from deciding on an internship. Chicago to get away from Africa.” She let out a defeated chuckle. “Even coming to Washington wasn’t for a job I had been working towards.” Jane looked at her, attentive yet clearly puzzled, and Maura felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “For the first time in my life, I might have something to go to. Does that make sense?”

 

“It makes perfect sense,” Jane replied. “And I’d like to promise you I’m not going to push you into a decision, but I’d be lying.” She gave Maura a grin. “But… that’s not a decision that needs to be made right now. There’s something much more important we have to talk about. Where do you get pizza in this city?”

 

…..

 

After 10 minutes of heated negotiations and compromises, they settled on a large pizza, half mushrooms and half pepperoni. The game was a double-header, so Maura found herself drawn into the complexities of the infield fly rule, and the nuances of when to yell at the umpire even though he couldn’t hear them. They sat side-by-side, revelling in each other’s company, whether they were talking or silent. When the third strike was called, Jane let out a cheer, and the game was over. There was a melancholy to the moment, as Maura realized their time together was getting shorter.

 

“Hey, what’s the matter? The Sox just annihilated the Rays.”

 

Maura looped her arm with Jane’s and sighed. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

 

“Seven,” Jane groaned. “It’ll give me just enough time to get to work for 9.”

 

“You didn’t bring anything with you,” Maura observed.

 

“No. Just got on the first plane here,” Jane admitted. “I’ve got extra clothes at work, and I bet I can get Frost to cover for me while I have a quick shower in the gym.”

 

Maura looked up. “Your first thought was to get on a plane?”

 

“Sure. I mean, there’s was no way I could let you go through this alone. Besides, you were in Washington. It’s not like I had to fly across the country.”

 

“Or to New York,” Maura said, remembering their earlier joke.

 

“Right. New York? You would have been on your own.”

 

Maura pressed closer into Jane’s side. “I somehow doubt that.”

 

“Hmph. Yeah, I guess you’re right. You must be pretty great for me to think about going to New York.”

 

“I am pretty great,” Maura agreed.

 

Lightly pinching her arm, Jane relented. “Yeah, you are.” She proceeded to punctuate her sentence with a yawn. “Sorry! It’s been a long day.”

 

“It certainly has,” Maura said with a sigh. “I suppose we should go to bed.” When she heard Jane snicker, she added, “I have a guest room. Or, we could… I mean, we’re adults…”

 

Jane lifted Maura’s hand and brought it to her lips. “As much as I’d like to think we could keep it a sleepover, I think you were right. We should give this some time. Besides, I don’t want to wake up in the morning and have to go back without you. It won’t be so hard this way. And… I like the idea of giving you one more reason to choose Boston.”

 

…..

 

“Helluva way to come back from a personal day,” Frost remarked as they stood outside the house that was now a crime scene.

 

Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes, Jane groaned, “I don’t even know if I’m awake yet.”

 

She had been gently prodded awake at 5 am by Maura’s soft body pressing in behind her. _‘If you want me to get out of bed, you’re going about it the wrong way,’_ she’d said. But when the promise of coffee and the threat of being late was presented, she dragged herself out of the queen sized slice of heaven and reluctantly got on the plane back home. Maura had assured her she’d be okay, and the goodbyes at the airport came with unspoken promises of the future. Though she hadn’t said it outright, Jane was convinced Maura would take a chance with Boston, and the thought made her smile.

 

“Is that a ‘happy I’m back’ smile, or a ‘boy, I sure do love a murder’ smile?” Frost asked. “Because if it’s the last one, you’re creeping me out.”

 

Jane tried to reign in her excitement, but in the end, shrugged and said, “Fuck it. Tell me what happened, Frost.”

 

He flipped open his notebook and began listing the details. “Connor Blackstone, 33. Lives alone, which is why it took a co-worker to report him missing. The ME says he’s been dead for less than 48 hours. Cause of death looks like a trip down the stairs. Broken neck.”

 

“Have you seen the body?”

 

Frost gulped. “Uh, no, not yet. Thought I’d wait for you to get here.”

 

Jane smirked at his evasiveness. “Someone told me you need to see more dead bodies if you want to get used to them. You want to start now?”

 

“Do I have to?”

 

“I’ll tell you what - do the neighbour knocks and see if you can find out anything. But-” she cut off his look of relief, “you have to come down for the autopsy later.” Seeing his wrinkled nose, she said, “Look, it’s not going to get any better if you don’t try.”

 

He saw the wisdom in her words and nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the station.”

 

They parted ways and Jane walked in the house after flashing her badge to the officer on door duty. She didn’t have to go far before she found herself in the middle of the crime scene. The stairs were fifteen feet away from the door, and the body was only ten.

 

“That’s a hell of a fall,” Jane remarked.

 

Pike looked up. “Such a pleasure to see you again, Detective.” He looked back down at the corpse. “COD is obvious, I should think.”

 

Though he pointed to the neck, Jane didn’t need the direction. The protruding bone was obvious enough. “Instantaneous?”

 

“I should think so,” he replied. “The contusion on his cheek barely had time to bleed.”

 

“So, he tripped, tumbled down the stairs, hit his face at some point, and died instantly.”

 

“That’s what I’ll be writing in my report.”

 

“Another death by fall?” Jane asked. “You’re not finding this odd?”

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

She looked up at the stairs and tried to remember all the things Maura said she’d look for at the scene. “Where exactly did he fall? I mean, was it at the top, or the middle, or…”

 

“What does it matter, Detective?”

 

Jane narrowed her eyes. “I mean, the details are important. I’d like to make sure everything’s covered.”

 

Pike stood to his full height. “Here’s a detail that will go in my report, Detective,” he huffed. “There was an unusual amount of prescription drugs sitting at the victim’s bedside table. Right beside a bottle of cough syrup with a high codeine content.”

 

“So he had a cold.”

 

“He was over-medicating himself.” Pike sniffed and shrugged his shoulders. “That lead to the fall which lead to his death. I should think you’d be happy these last few cases have been so easy, all things considered.” He had the temerity to glance openly at her hands. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to sign off on the body. Autopsy will be done first thing in the morning.”

 

Jane found another reason to be happy she was so tired. On any other day, she might have punched him right between the eyes.

 

…..

 

“Neighbour knock turned up nothing,” Frost said the minute she stepped into the bullpen.

 

She nodded wearily at the information, but perked up at the sight of a large coffee cup on her desk. Korsak wasn’t at his computer, and when she looked at Frost, the young man had a grin on his face.

 

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt. You know, buttering up my new partner.”

 

She tried not to return the grin but failed miserably. Sitting down, she popped the lid off and inhaled deeply. “Consider me buttered.”

 

He snorted at the answer. “Oh, I did get something yesterday from….” he checked the note on the file, “Susie Chang?”

 

Her eyes were immediately alert. “The science whiz from the morgue. What is it?”

 

He handed her the folder while saying, “Something about a second screening of a blood sample? I’m supposed to tell you there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary beyond what Dr. Pike found.”

 

She flipped through the report, though she had to admit it looked like just a handful of numbers and letters thrown onto a piece of paper. “Damn.”

 

“Anything to do with our case today?”

 

“Dr. Pike doesn’t think so,” Jane said.

 

“Okay. But what do you think?”

 

She admired him for getting right to the heart of the matter. “There have been three other cases that seem oddly similar if you really look.”

 

“And Dr. Pike isn’t really looking?”

 

She took a sip of her coffee and sat back. “I don’t know. I mean, on the surface, they’re completely random deaths. But there’s something there that’s just…”

 

“Messing around with your guts.”

 

Nodding, she said, “Yeah. Three - now four - healthy people in the last 5 weeks have all died from a fall somehow. A head wound, a broken neck, whatever, but always caused by a fall.”

 

Frost pursed his lips and gave it some thought. “Nothing wrong with their hearts? Nothing they tripped on or slipped on?”

 

“Nope,” Jane answered. “Just dropped and -bam!” She snapped her fingers.

 

“Sounds like something in the brain, not the heart. Drugs? Medication?”

 

“Nothing that connects all of them, though Pike did find enough evidence of some kind of drug or alcohol in every death to sign off on it as the source of the fall.”

 

“That’s why you got Susie Chang to run the toxicology screen again,” Frost guessed.

 

“There’s got to be something else here, Frost,” Jane said. “What connects them all?”

 

“If you can’t connect them with the tox report, have you done a cross-reference on their finances?” he asked. “Maybe they crossed paths at a singular source.”

 

Jane nodded. “I started one, but with the cases considered closed, it’s been hard to dig around.” She remembered his earlier comment and smiled. “Or maybe I haven’t had the right shovel.”

 

He grinned at the memory. “Give me a bit and I’ll have something for you by the end of the day.”

 

…..

 

He has something for her even sooner than that. When she came back from lunch, he pointed to the folder on her desk. “Four very different people,” he began. “You wouldn’t think they’d have anything in common.”

 

“Except…”

 

He winked. “They all shopped at The Bee’s Knees.” He saw her raised eyebrow and continued, “It’s an earthy store; you know, all-natural stuff, homeopathic medicine, hemp clothing.”

 

“Doesn’t sound like a place to get drugs,” she said. “Even I know you don’t smoke that kind of hemp.”

 

“I don’t know what it means,” he admitted, “but that’s the connection.”

 

“I don’t know what it means either, but good job, Frost. You up to checking out some organic rice cakes?”

 

He laughed and grabbed his jacket. “Shucks, I just ate lunch.”

 

…..

 

The visit to The Bee’s Knees got them no closer to solving the odd connection. Pictures were vaguely recognized, but not immediately identified, and the point of sale system was a manual one, which made tracking down their exact purchases impossible. Jane tossed a candle she bought for her mother in the back seat of the car and stared out the window to gather her thoughts.

 

“Can we go back to the crime scenes and take a look around?” Frost asked.

 

“No, the deaths are too far apart. There’s nothing we could be certain of,” Jane replied. “I guess we’re left with the pictures CSRU took. Maybe there’s something there we’re missing.”

 

“I’ll upload them to BRIC and we can use the image-recognition system.” She looked at him blankly and he laughed. “It will pick out similar images or words. So, for example, if you and me have the same book on our shelves...which is probably highly unlikely-”

 

“Hey!”

 

“Anyway, the program would recognize the shape of the books _and_ if the picture is good enough, pick out the similar titles.”

 

She glanced at her watch. “I like that idea, but why don’t we call it a day and come at it fresh tomorrow?” He nodded in agreement. “Right after the autopsy.”

 

She turned the key and the engine noise muffled the sound of his groan.

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more after this one. I just want to take the time to say 'Thank you!' to everyone who has read, and especially those who have taken the time to leave comments. If you have left one under your AO3 account name, I will do my best to reply privately and let you know how much you're appreciated.

…..

 

Though they hadn’t mentioned it when they separated at the airport, somehow, when 7PM rolled around, they found themselves facing each other through their computer screens. They smiled, said their hellos, and immediately, Jane could feel the dynamic between them had changed since their last talk on Skype.

 

She leaned forward and peered closely at the screen, bobbing her head back and forth until Maura finally asked, "What is it?"

 

"Oh, nothing," Jane replied. "Just realized I've never seen your bedroom."

 

"Not for lack of me trying," Maura retorted playfully.

 

"Oh! Well played, Doctor."

 

"I see what you mean when you say titles can sound appealing given the right situation."

 

Jane's mouth dropped. "Two zingers already? I'm impressed. You must have had a good day, all things considered."

 

Maura hummed. "I did have a very interesting phone call this afternoon."

 

"Do tell."

 

She looked as if she was pondering her next words carefully. "I don't like to guess, so I'll just come out and ask - did you have something to do with Bernard Ashley calling me?"

 

"The governor of Massachusetts?" Jane asked. "No. Why would you..." She saw the disbelief on Maura's face and gave it up. "I may have had a recent conversation with him."

 

"Jane..."

 

She held up a finger. "It was before I went to Washington," she said in defense. "I just wanted to put a bug in his ear, that's all." Maura looked shocked, and Jane quickly clarified, "Figure of speech. I just wanted him to be aware that, you know, there were options."

 

"I don't know how I feel about you making that call."

 

"Aren't you qualified for the job?"

 

"I'm overqualified, actually."

 

Jane smiled and rolled her eyes. "Of course you are. So now he knows your name and that you're available. I can't make him give you the job any more than I can make you take it."

 

Maura was silent for a moment. "Hmmm. You must have an incredible amount of influence to have a direct line to the governor."

 

She dismissed the praise with a shrug. "Catching a serial killer puts me on all the important guest lists. Or maybe it's just my charm."

 

"It _is_ hard to resist," Maura conceded. "Anyway, enough about my day. How was yours?"

 

"You can't end it like that. What did the governor ask and what did you say?"

 

"He informed me the position was open, offered me a temporary role as an observer, and I told him I would consider it. Now, your turn."

 

Jane frowned but relented. "Came back to a murder," she said. "Fell down the stairs, neck went-" she made a clicking sound with her cheek. "I guess I shouldn't call it a homicide; the ME is signing off on an accidental death caused by an unintentional overdose of prescription drugs."

 

"Why does this sound like the three other deaths you asked me to look over?"

 

"Because it’s pretty much the same," Jane replied. "And he's not looking any further than the pills and cough medicine on the night stand. He's doing the autopsy in the morning, but I think the only thing we'll find out is what Frost had for breakfast."

 

Maura tutted. "Poor Detective Frost."

 

"So you told the governor you'd think about it, huh? Don't roll your eyes; I told you I couldn't promise not to be pushy."

 

"You did say that, yes," Maura agreed.

 

"Given any thought to where you might want to live? Charlestown or maybe Jamaica Plain?"

 

"Jane!"

 

"What?" she said with a shrug.

 

Maura blew out a sigh. "Beacon Hill is lovely."

 

"Ooooh, Beacon Hill," Jane said, affecting a posh accent. " _Slightly_ out of my price range, so you're on your own."  She paused and seemed to mentally rewind the conversation. "Wait. So you _have_ thought about it. Maura, that's..." A broad smile began to form. "That's great."

 

"The governor made a very tempting offer." Jane pouted and Maura laughed. "And I may have succumbed to the charms of a certain detective."

 

She made a celebratory fist. "Yes!"

 

"I worry this is too easy," Maura confessed.

 

"I know," she agreed. "And it won't be. Always this easy, I mean. But it's a step forward. God, I'm starting to sound like my therapist."

 

The seriousness was lifted and Maura smiled. "At least we're taking the steps together."

 

"And don't worry, I'll help you with the heavy lifting."

 

Maura shook her head. "You won't need to do that. I'll hire a moving company."

 

"I meant that as a metaphor, Maura."

 

......

 

"You trying to show me up by coming in so early?"

 

Frost looked up from his computer and grinned. "I've heard my new partner is a ball-breaker, and I want to have kids one day."

 

"Very funny. If you ever need help finding someone, my mother would be more than happy to butt in. In fact, you'd be doing me a huge favour." She dropped into her seat. "Seriously, why in the world are you here so early?"

 

"To be honest, I'm geeking out at getting my hands on the image recognition program. I've only ever seen it used once."

 

She rolled her eyes. "Boys and their toys. What do you have to do?"

 

"Just putting the photos from all four crime scenes on a stick so we can bring it to BRIC."

 

"Too early for rhymes, Frost."

 

He grinned again, then snapped his fingers. "Done. Can we go now?"

 

Reluctantly, she pushed herself to a standing position. "I bet you were a handful on Christmas Eve."

 

"'Were'?"

 

.....

 

BRIC was quiet save for the presence of a portly grey-haired man sitting behind a small laptop. He raised his head when they entered the room.

 

"Mike, it's like the Wizard of Oz in here."

 

"Jane Rizzoli!" he greeted warmly. He came around the desk and opened his arms for an embrace. "Don't give me any of that 'not a hugger' bullshit."

 

She sighed melodramatically and made a show of reluctantly putting her arms around him. "There. Happy?"

 

"Ecstatic," he replied. "Our leave of absences have kept us apart. How you been?"

 

Shrugging, she said, "Still getting my head examined. You know."

 

"Tadic?"

 

"Yep."

 

"Just make sure he doesn't want to examine anything else, if you know what I mean." He gave her the once over to make his point.

 

She scrunched up her face. "Ew. Thanks for that, Mike. Hey, I didn't get a chance to say I'm sorry about Gloria. She was a good woman."

 

He nodded solemnly. "She was. Anyway, enough of this maudlin bullshit. I recognize the new guy, but I can't place your name."

 

"Frost," he supplied. "Barry Frost."

 

Mike narrowed his eyes, then uttered a small "Ah," when the memory came back. "Robbery, right?" Frost nodded, and held out his hand. "Nice to see you again, Frost. What brings you two to Oz so early?"

 

Jane looked at her partner and said, "It's your show."

 

Frost tilted his head appreciatively and said to Mike, “We’ve got 4 suspicious deaths but nothing to link them together. I’ve collected all the photos from the scene and I’m hoping we can run it through the Item Recognition.”

 

“You got the pics with you?”

 

“Right here,” he said, handing over the USB stick.

 

“Didja account for the aspect ratio?” When Frost made a face, Mike shook his head. “You gotta make the images as close to the same size as possible, or the program will pick up a business card and a book and call them the same thing. I’ll tell you what - give me about 30 to 45 minutes; I’ll play around with them and see what I can do.”

 

Frost all but pouted and Jane said, “If you’re good at the autopsy, maybe when we come back, Mike will let you push the little button.”

 

Mike rolled back on his heels and laughed. “You can’t let her get away with that, my friend, or she’ll sass you until the end of your career.”

 

Jane winked at the older man, then lightly slapped Frost on the arm. “Come on. Let Magic Mike do his thing.”

 

Mike shuffled his shoulders and swiveled his hips. Frost covered his eyes.

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

 

Notes: Left a longer A/N at the end of the story, because who wants to read them at the beginning? :)

…..

 

The new partners were still bantering about Mike and his 'magic' when Jane pushed open the door to the morgue. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the two faces in the room. The presence of Dr. Pike was expected; the person standing off to the side wasn't.

 

"Maura?" Jane blurted. Catching her blunder, she quickly amended, "I mean, Dr. Isles." She turned to Jane and smiled, and the detective wondered how she could make simple black scrubs look so good.

 

"Detective Rizzoli. Good to see you again." Her mouth twitched in amusement but the rest of her face betrayed nothing.  

 

Jane stared for a good 30 seconds before Frost's cough shook her out of her reverie. "Sorry! This is Detective Barry Frost. Frost, this is Dr. Maura Isles."

 

"Oh, Detective Frost," Maura said with an outstretched hand. "I'm so glad I get to thank you personally for all your help on the Harrisburg case."

 

Frost returned the handshake and smiled. "Glad I could help." Turning to Jane, he said under his breath, "That's your 'friend'? I think you might've found a way to make your mother stop matchmaking."

 

Jane felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and she saw Maura's confusion. "Don't pay any attention to him," she told her. "He's just trying to be sassy. What are you doing here?"

 

"I've asked the same question," Pike muttered from the other side of the autopsy table.

 

Jane glared, but Maura either didn't notice his tone, or she didn't care. "As I told Dr. Pike, Governor Ashley invited me to observe the Medical Examiner's office, with the possibility of me taking on the position in the future."

 

Jane understood Pike's ire now, and she smirked. "I see. So what have you observed?"

 

"She's 'observed' a meticulous autopsy that didn't require my hand being held," Pike retorted, snapping off his latex gloves.

 

"Are you finished already?" Jane asked. "I was hoping Frost could get a look."

 

"I don't have time to wait for tardy detectives to show up at _my_ autopsies." He stressed the word and looked at Maura before dismissing himself with, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

 

Jane watched him leave before exhaling a dramatic breath. "Boy, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

 

“Did you know that expression originated with the Romans? Getting out of bed on the left side was considered bad luck, so the left side was considered the ‘wrong’ side.” The detectives looked at her with amused curiosity and she backpedalled. "Sorry. I don't do well in front of people. Live ones, I mean."

 

Chuckling, Frost said, "That's okay. I don't do well in front of dead ones, so we're even."

 

Jane discreetly touched Maura’s arm. "So what did you think of our esteemed Assistant M.E.?"

 

"I found him to be... adequate."

 

Jane snorted. "That's exactly what our senior criminalist said. Rated his thoroughness at 72%."

 

With a small half-shrug, Maura said, "Perhaps she got him on a good day."

 

"Yeah!" Frost praised. "That's what I call sass."

 

Jane bit the inside of her cheek in amusement. "Anyway, anything about the autopsy look off to you?"  

 

"This is the body that was discovered yesterday, correct?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Dr. Pike has sent the blood work in for the toxicology test, though based on my impression, I'd like to talk to your lab technician and have them run a secondary trial. I’ve also had a sample of the kidney sent in for examination."

 

"What for?" Frost asked with interest.

 

"The kidney is the body's filter," Maura explained. "There might be something there that won't get picked up in the blood test."

 

Jane nodded. "I had Susie do a secondary tox screen on the first three victims. Nothing came up. Didn't know about the kidney thing."

 

"It falls outside the scope of a standard autopsy," Maura replied. "It doesn't surprise me that...Susie?...didn’t suggest it. Do detectives generally observe the autopsy?”

 

“Unfortunately, this one does,” Frost grimaced, jerking his thumb at Jane.

 

“I need the M.E to explain all the science-y words on the reports anyway, so I figure I might as well get them the first time,” Jane replied.

 

“It’ll be a nicer trip down here if you take the job, Dr. Isles.”

 

“Thank you, Detective Frost.”

 

Jane cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’re taking the job?”

 

“It means I appreciate the compliment,” Maura answered without committing, much to Jane’s dismay. Changing the subject, she asked, “What will you do while you wait for the test results?”

 

Jane tilted her chin in Frost’s direction. “I promised this one he could open a present.” Frost smiled at the shared joke. “There’s this shiny new recognition program Frost is all giddy about using. We’re going to head upstairs and see if Mike’s got it going.”

 

“That sounds fascinating,” Maura said. “Do mind if I come along?”

 

“Well, since you’ll be working with them in three months, I might as well introduce you to some of the team now.”

 

Maura narrowed her eyes at Jane’s comment, but could only shake her head at the detective’s persistence.

 

…..

 

“Hey, look, it’s the Wonder Twins!” Mike bellowed. The laugh quickly died away to an awkward cough when he saw Maura. “Ma’am.”

 

“‘Ma’am’?” Jane repeated. “You’re two steps away from pulling out a comb from your pocket and fixing your hair, Mike. Relax. This is Dr. Maura Isles. She’s here in an observer capacity from Washington.”

 

“Fed?” Mike whispered.

 

It wasn’t so quiet that Maura didn’t hear. “Actually, not any more.”

 

“She’s looking to take over for Dr. Merrill when he retires,” Jane finished. “I bet her 10 bucks the Boston has a better computer team than the Feds. Am I right, Mike?”

 

“You’re damn right,” he said. “Got those pics resized and dropped into the program. Just waiting for Sheldon here to get the show going.”

 

Maura looked back and forth between the two men. “I thought your name was ‘Barry’.”

 

Frost smiled. “He means ‘Sheldon Cooper’.” This got no look of recognition from her, and he cleared his throat to cover his amusement. “He’s from ‘The Big Bang Theory’? It’s a TV show.”

 

“Ah, I understand. I mean, I don’t know Mr. Cooper, but I’m aware of using pop culture references in conversation. I’m just not familiar enough with them myself.” Three patient faces stared back. “Please, continue.”

 

Mike smiled and brought up the images onto the long bank of monitors that were built into the wall. Each screen showed a different picture from the crime scenes, 12 in all. With a nod to Frost, the young detective walked up to the keyboard and hit ‘enter’ with a flourish. In an instant, grids of different colours scanned the photos, isolating and saving anything that resembled an item in the other photos.

 

As the program went about its business, Mike said, “I programmed it to ignore same-shaped items in the other pics from the same scene. That way, we’re not having to wade through duplicates.”

 

The four stood and watched the monitors intently. Rectangles, squares, circles, cylinders, and anything that bore a similarity of more than 90% beeped and were highlighted. Books that shared the same title, fabrics of the same colour, even photographs that had a similar composition were all tagged. It took all of 3 minutes for the program to complete its task.

 

Jane was the first to speak. “That’s a lot more than I thought there would be.”

 

“And just think, I narrowed the parameters,” Mike replied.

 

She blew out a long breath and shrugged. “Okay. Can you print those out?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Good. We’ll take them back to the bullpen and have a closer look.” She watched as Maura slowly approached the screens. “What is it?”

 

Maura didn’t immediately reply. Instead, she seemed to focus on two images. Tapping the screen, she asked Mike, “Can you enlarge this?”

 

“I can,” he answered, “but we’ll lose some of the clarity, so I’ll bring it up as close as I can.” Frost stepped aside and the computer technician typed in a command that isolated the two pictures that had caught Maura’s attention. With a click of the mouse, both images were magnified by 2, then by 5. “That’s about the best I can do before we lose the sharpness.”

 

“No, I think that’s fine, thank you,” she said.

 

Jane stood beside Maura. “What is it?” she asked again.

 

“Honey.”

 

“I usually wait a few dates before the pet names,” Jane whispered.

 

“What? No,” Maura shook her head. “They both have jars of honey.” She turned and looked at the clueless trio. “ _‘... the soldiers who ate of the honey all went of their heads, and suffered from vomiting and diarrhea, and not one of them could stand up, but those who had eaten a little were like people exceedingly drunk’_. The Greek writer Xenophon in 401 BC wrote of the effects of ‘mad honey’.” This didn’t seem to help, so she continued, “When bees create honey derived from members of the _Ericaceae_ family, the honey contains grayanotoxin, which can cause hypotension, cardiac rhythm disorders, nausea, vomiting, sweating, dizziness or impaired consciousness if ingested. It’s mostly found in the Black Sea region of Turkey, but it has been reported in the United States.”

 

“I’m catching on now,” Jane said. “Bees make bad honey, which makes people dizzy and drunk.”

 

“Well, yes, I suppose that summarizes things.”

 

“Bet a store called The Bee’s Knees sells honey,” Jane said. “Can this grayannietoxin be found here or is this something someone would have to order?”

 

Frost nodded. “I see where you’re going - you’re trying to figure out of the store owner just ordered the wrong thing or if he did it on purpose by making it himself?”

 

Maura shook her head. “Even if he made it, it doesn’t necessarily mean he did it with intent to harm. Some homeopathic practitioners swear by its therapeutic value.”

 

“Okay,” Jane said, gathering her thoughts. “First thing we need to do is make sure the store sells this honey. Mike, can you print up those two pictures? I can’t see the name, but the red lid should be enough.”

 

“We’ll have to tell Cavanaugh,” Frost said. “The store doesn’t keep itemized receipts, so we can’t pinpoint who might have bought it. He’ll have to figure out what he wants to tell the media.”

 

“He’s gonna love that,” Mike snorted.

 

Jane clapped Frost on the shoulder. “I think the rookie should get the honour. What do you say, Mike?”

 

He rolled back on his heels, enjoying Frost’s discomfort. “Only seems fair.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “It was fun while it lasted.” Before he made his way to the door, he turned to Maura and said, “It was very nice meeting you, Dr. Isles. I hope you’ll stay.”

 

“I’m happy to have met you, too, Detective Frost. And it looks increasingly likely that you’ll see me in the future.”

 

“Would bring some pretty to the place,” Mike noted, handing over the photos. “What?” he said, seeing Jane’s glare. “C’mon, everyone knows you’ll always be my favourite.”

 

She feigned offence. “Hmph. I’m taking the pretty away now, so say goodbye, Mike.”

 

“Goodbye, Mike,” he parroted.

 

Outside BRIC, Jane stopped and looked at Maura. “Did you mean it? What you said to Frost?”

 

“I said many things to Detective Frost.”

 

“Very funny. You know what I’m talking about. You’re going to take the job?”

 

Rather than answer the question, she admitted, “I do have my reservations about it.”

 

“You’re worried about meshing our personal and our professional lives.”

 

“Yes,” Maura nodded, “but I’m also aware we don’t really know each other outside of our working relationship. It’s almost as if we don’t have a personal life with each other.”

 

Jane looked around, and finding the coast clear, stepped forward and rested her fingers on Maura’s hips. “The job won’t be open for another 3 months. Think that’s long enough to get to know each other? On a personal level?”

 

Maura swayed into the touch. “You’re very persuasive.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Yes. And very charming.”

 

“Guess that’s why I’m single.” Maura reached over and lightly pinched her side. “Ow! What was that for?”

 

“You’re single?”

 

Jane looked into warm hazel eyes. “Oh.” She pondered the situation and chose her words carefully, though she was unable to hide her grin. “Single with the chance of that changing?”

 

“A chance,” Maura agreed with feigned seriousness.

 

“A good chance?”

 

With a quickness that surprised Jane, she found herself being pulled into a short but promising kiss. She could feel the smile against her lips.

 

“A _very_ good chance.”

 

…..

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The origin of this story was a tumblr prompt by someone who wanted an AU where Jane and Maura met professionally on Skype, only to discover, as the story progressed, that they were attracted to each other. I tied this one up pretty quickly, mainly because 1. at risk of being accused of queer-baiting (which I have been), I'm always more interested in the "chase" than the "catch" (hence, no sex in this one) and 2. it would have been very, very easy to turn this into a long meandering These Are the Days of Jane and Maura's Lives. I think I would have gotten a lot of reviews if I had done that, but it's just not in me to draw something out. I like my stories tightly written and strongly plotted, rather than turn it into an opus of 150k+ words. I know there is a part of the fandom that wants that- I just can't do it. :)
> 
> Thanks to ALL who have read, whether you left a review/kudo or not. It's always appreciated.


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